Sometimes I see him as just another person, and sometimes I feel the sight of him in my gut, like a deep ache.

But when you kill someone you love, the hard part is never over. It just gets easier to distract yourself from what you've done.

It's like he knows, he knows I have a thing for her.

Now she looks pale and small, but her eyes make me think of wide- open skies that I have never actually seen, only dreamed of.

But when I do feel all the strength go out of me, and I fall to my knees beside the table and I think I cry, then, or at least I want to, and everything inside me screams for just one more kiss, one more word, one more glance, one more.

What do you think they're going to do to us when they find us guilty?" she says after a few minutes of silence have passed. "Honestly?" "Does now seem like the time for honesty?" I look at her from the corner of my eye. "I think they're going to force us to eat lots of cake and then take an unreasonably long nap.

It's strange how a word, a phrase, a sentence, can feel like a blow to the head.