Half of bravery is perspective.

He slides his hand over my cheek, one finger anchored behind my ear. Then he tilts his head down and kisses me, sending a warm ache through my body. I wrap my hands around his arm, holding him there as long as I can. When he touches me, the hollowed-out feeling in my chest and stomach is not as noticeable.

I am proud. It will get me into trouble someday, but today it makes me brave

I feel empty, not because of sadness, but because of relief, all the tension flowing out of me.

And I'm the kind of person who does not let inconsequential things like boys and near death experiences stop her.

I hear my heartbeat. I have been looking at him too long, but then, he has been looking back, and I feel like we are both trying to say something the other can't hear, though I could be imagining it. Too long - and now even longer, my heart even louder, his tranquil eyes swallowing me whole.

Leaving us with Eric is like hiring a babysitter who spends his time sharpening knives.