It wasn't aliens that first made us gear up for war; it was our fellow humans.

The doctor frowned upon drinking and often expressed wonderment at men who willingly made imbeciles of themselves.

It's almost dawn. You can feel it coming. The world holds its breath, because there's really no guarantee that the sun will rise. That there was a yesterday doesn't mean there will be a tomorrow.

Prayers and promises. The one his sister made to him. The unspoken one I made to my sister. Prayers are promises, too, and these are the days of broken promises.

His heart, the war. Her face, the battlefield.

Time for the world to end.

And in more than half the pictures, she isn't looking at the camera; she's looking at him. Not the way I would look at Ben Parish, all squishy around the eyes. She looks at Evan fiercely, like, This here? It's mine