“This whole time, I'd been so busy pusing him away, telling him watever was between us wasn't real. And now I'd realized the depth of what he felt for me- what I felt for him- he was gone.”

“So of course I tensed up when he touched me. To be with him was to hurt him- inevitably. And that's what I'd felt as he reached for me: I'd felt as though I were committing an act of violence against him, because I was.”

“Of course I tensed up when he touched me. To be with him was to hurt him-inevitably. And that's what I'd felt as he reached for me: I'd felt as though I were committing an act of violence against him, because I was.”

“He was gone and did not have time to tell him what I had just now realized: that I forgave him, and that she forgave us, and that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth.”

“What if it's as simple as one moment? One tiny thing, like that kiss on the rocks? What if I'd kissed him a little longer? Would he be alive right now? Or what if I'd stayed with him Friday night, what if I'd been with him… wherever he was?”

“Because just before I arrived, he showed up on the bus. He, meaning Damien.He reminded me of the pain I'd felt when he died. He reminded me of what it's like to feel your heart explode in your chest cavity at the realization of living your life without the only person you've ever loved. And he reminded me of the promise I'd made to him months ago. I told him that I'd love him forever.That I'd never let go.But part of me wants to let go.Deep down inside I know that I can't go on loving a ghost forever. I tell myself this every day. Then I see him and I forget about having those thoughts. Because when I do see him, he looks like the Damien I met on that humid summer day, who was smirking at me, and driving his candy apple red Cadillac in reverse. When I see him he looks so vivid.So full of life.Not so...so...So dead.”