But it was too early to know: there were always more pages to go, more words to be written, before the story was over.

The chances we take, knowing no better than to fall or to stand back and hold ourselves in... protecting our hearts with the tightest of grips.

Life is long. Just because you don't get your chance right when you want or expect it doesn't mean it won't come. Fate doesn't punch a time clock or consult a schedule.

That's the thing about someone who rarely gets upset: when they do, you notice.

Just me and the future, finally together. Now there was a happy ending I could believe in.

He was looking at me, jsut as I'd thought he would be, but like Bert's, his light was not what I expected. No pity, no sadness: nothing had changed. I realized all the times I'd felt people stare at me, their faces had been pictures, abstracts. None of them were mirrors, able to reflect back the expression I thought one I wore, the feelings only I felt.

Grieving doesn't make you imperfect. It makes you human.