Lie to me. she whispered. I love you. he said.

If you turned the fabric of our lives over, I imagined the design on the backside would be woven in the bleak grays of doubt and fear.

We did not hope for the same things, but we all hoped.

It felt almost rude to ignore toe pretty white bed, but we just weren’t going to make it that far.

Books have been thought of as windows to another world of imagination

My skin burns where it meets his. It feels better than good, but it sets off a strange aching in my chest.

I’ve chosen my life — now I want to start living it.