“It's the secret smile you get from knowing that, somewhere, there is someone who is yours. Not in the sense that you own her or control her. She is yours because you can say anything to her, whenever you need to. And she can do the same, whenever she needs to.”

“Her smile fades. "I cant use any of it.""You can use some of it," I say, because I want the smile back and because its true. She can do more than she thinks she can. For some reason, she just wont try. "And I can be your other hand when you need it.”

“Whenever you're around her she's calm. She's more aware. It's like you carry a frequency she can tune into.”

“I brush her hair back from her forehead. "You need to stop worrying about everything that can't be controlled." She signs and leans away from my hand, "That's just it, though. It's all I can think about anymore. It's like this fixation I have no control over which makes no sense because Im fixated on controlling the uncontrollable." She's breathing wildly. Shit. I need to calm her down.”

“Whenever I'm out late she makes a sandwich for my school lunch. I always protest and tell her not to, saying I'll make my own when I get home. But she likes it. She says it reminds her of when I was younger and needed her.”

“There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won't remember and that she can't even let herself think about because that's when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in her mind it's always raining a slow and endless drizzle.You will hear that she has left the country, that there was a gift she wanted you to have, but it is lost before it reaches you. Late one night the telephone will sign, and a voice that might be hers will say something that you cannot interpret before the connection crackles and is broken.Several years later, from a taxi, you will see someone in a doorway who looks like her, but she will be gone by the time you persuade the driver to stop. You will never see her again. Whenever it rains you will think of her. ”