She knew what it felt like to stand in front of someone and ask them to love you, to try to pull them to you by the sheer force of your desire, a force so strong it felt as though you were going to die from it.

He might be tall enough to see into tomorrow, but he hadn’t looked there in a long, long time. He’d forgotten how bright it was. So bright he could hardly stand it.

Those who decided to stick with her would be her true friends. The others would just be scenery.

First frost meant letting go, so it was always reason to celebrate.

Blank-slate friendships were thin and temperamental. She knew that. There was no history there to cement people together, for better or worse.

If they just carried on like always, everything would be ok.

If anyone had been paying attention to the signs, they would have realized that air turns white when things are about to change, that paper cuts mean there's more to what's written on the page than meets the eye, and that birds are always out to protect you from things you don't see.