“She lost much of her appetite. At night, an invisible hand kept shaking her awake every few hours. Grief was physiological, a disturbance of the blood. Sometimes a whole minute would pass in nameless dread - the bedside clock ticking, the blue moonlight coating the window like glue - before she`d remember the brutal fact that had caused it.”

“Sophia stood staring blankly up the stairs for an entire minute before it dawned on her that he'd used the kiss to befuddle her. Blast it all! She fumed to herself as she walked to the front window and stationed herself there.Time went by. The clock ticked. A bee buzzed against the windowpane. Dust settled. After thirty minutes had passed, Sophia had had enough. She gave the empty lane one last glance, then went upstairs.”

“Before her parents were killed, Lena hadn't minded school. She had even liked some of her classes. Now school was just watching the clock tick.”

“It was as if, before she`d met him, her blood had circulated grayly around her body, and now ir was all oxygenated and red. She was petrified of becoming the half-alive person she`d been before.”

“...she still cannot resist looking out the window every couple of minutes. The sound of a passing truck causes her to glance away. Even if there is no sound, the weight of a hundred seconds always turns her head.”

“She wishes nightmares were all that kept her awake. She cannot tell which disturbs here more, the future or the past.”