Because being comfortable meant she might lower her guard, and she could not let that happen.

I want all of you, forever, you and me, everyday

I'd have to swing by the house first to change into something more comfortable.” “That's fine,” he said. “I'm all for you changing into something more comfortable.” “I'll bet you are,” she said knowingly. “Now, don't start getting fresh,” he said, feigning offense. “I don't think we know each other well enough for that.

She was in a terrible marriage and she couldn't talk to anyone. He used to hit her, and in the beginning she told him that if it ever happened again, she would leave him. He swore that it wouldn't and she believed him. But it only got worse after that, like when his dinner was cold, or when she mentioned that she'd visited with one of the neighbors who was walking by with his dog. She just chatted with him, but that night, her husband threw her into a mirror.

Jamie: You're acting like a crazy person, what's going on? Landon: Right now, you're straddling the state line. Jamie: OK... Landon: You're in two places at once.

It's possible to go on, no matter how impossible it seems, and that in time, the grief . . . lessens. It may not go away completely, but after a while it's not so overwhelming.

But Noah, you're not supposed to do this, and I can't let you. So go back to your room." Then smiling softly and sniffling and shuffling some papers on the desk, she says: "Me, I'm going downstairs for some coffee. I won't be back to check on your for a while, so don't do anything foolish." She rises quickly, touches my arm, and walks toward the stairs. She doesn't look back, and suddenly I am alone. I don't know what to think. I look at where she had been sitting and see her coffee, a full cup, still steaming, and once again I learn that there are good people in the world.