I want a campfire box.

I was only following orders," the Mayor mocks. "The refuge of scoundrels since the dawn of time.

You love him," he says. Not an asking, just a fact. "I do," I say. Also a fact.

I'll do it, Todd," I whisper. "I'll come with you." And he doesn't say anything, just squeezes my hand harder and brings it up to his face like he wants to breathe me in.

No one escapes from a war. No one. Not even the survivors. You accept things that would appall you at any other time because life has temporarily lost all meaning.

A man is capable of thought. A crowd is not.

"You can eff off, too," I say, except I don't say eff, I say what 'eff' stands for.