Because in the end you can't always choose what to keep. You can only choose how to let it go.
Close your eyes, I say to Ky, and I bend down, his breathing above me while he waits. There, I say, and he looks at what I've written. I love you.
There is something extraordinary about the first time falling.
If a graveyard floods, nothing is lost that wasn't already gone.
I will be strong enough to go without the tablet. But there are other things I'm not strong enough to go without, and I intend to fight for them.
Cassia doesn't like to sort people. I'm all too good at it and I worry I'll grow to like it too much.It's a talent.[...]And all it takes is a misstep or two for that talent to become a liability instead of an asset.
Forgetting lets you live without the pain for a moment but remembering hits hard.
Which one is the true one, I don't ask, they don't tell.
Ky leans toward me, his eyes holding mine, near enough that I can hear the slight crackle of the poem as he moves. I close my eyes as his lips touch warm on my cheek. I think of the cottonwood seeds brushing against me that day on the air train. Soft, light, full of promise.
Hearing it, I wonder how I could have ever thought that the birdcall I heard earlier sounded anything like the Officer's whistle.
These branches will be my bones, I thought, and the paper will be my heart and skin, the places that feel everything.
In a story, you can turn to the front and begin again and everyone lives once more. That doesn't work in real life. And I love my real people the most. Bram. My mother. My father. Ky. Xander. Can.
Reading the situation correctly is part of getting through it safely.
The snow melted before they could make a footprint in it. Their lives ended before they even knew what they could be.
Ky's story, bit by bit, is turning to ash and nothing. Except. He remembers it, and now I do, too.
I keep telling myself that, and most of the time I believe it.
Ky watches me with that look in his eyes, the one sad and full of love at the same time, the one he gives me when he knows something I don't, something he thinks has been stolen from me.
Go fast when I want and slow when I want.
It's nice, isn't it... to be part of something greater than yourself.
Who am I to try to change things, to get greedy and want more? If our Society changes and things are different, who am I to tell the girl who would have enjoyed the safe protected life that now she has to have choice and danger because of me?
And I realize that I can never stay in these hollowed-out places in the earth for long before I have to come up for air.