And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest "He died.

Mahoney: You have to live. Mr. Magorium: Darlin'...I have.

If these were indications of new love, as Sergei expected they were, then he was not surprised. All that scraping and arguing, the teasing and playful antagonism, could only mean on thing. It was a sure sign of attraction.

Turn the page, continue reading, and let the next story begin.

No. We breathe. We pulse. We regenerate. Our hearts beat. Our minds create. Our souls ingest. 37 seconds, well used, is a lifetime.

We humans can never claim to do nothing, we breath, we pulse, we regenerate.

Birds fascinated her. How did they do that, seeming to fly with one mind, each of them able to anticipate what the others would do?