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

Ingenuity requires creativity.

His fingers leave streaks of cold on my skin, invisible to the eye, and I think about wrapping his shirt around my fist and pulling him in to kiss me; I think about pressing myself against him, but I can't, because all our secrets would keep a space between us.

My name will be Edith Proir," she says. "And there is much I am happy to forget.

We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another.

I should wonder what courage—which is the virtue they most value—has to do with a metal ring through your nostril.

Why did you do it?" I say. "You want me dead. You were willing to do it yourself! What changed?" He presses his lips together and doesn't look away, not for a long time. Then he opens his mouth, hesitates, and finally says, " I can't be in anyone's debt. Okay? The idea that I owed you something made me sick. I would wake up in the middle of the night feeling like I was going to vomit. Indebted to a stiff? It's ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. And I couldn't have it.