“Bright spots move around him like someone shook the stars from a blanket and they all went flying.”

“I rip my handout of hers, and I want to back away. I want to get as far from her as I can, but for some reason I can't move from this spot."What else did you tell him?”

“For males twenty-five is the fatal age. For women it's twenty. We are all dropping like flies.”

“He rubbed my arm, whispering words that sounded like moth bodies flying into glass windows.”

“Eventually I realize that I am holding on to him just as tightly as he holds on to me. And here we are: two small dying things, as the world ends around us like falling autumn leaves.”

“I nod like I'm not at all unnerved by this new cold side to him. Not cruel like his father. Not warm like the husband who sought me out on quiet nights. Something in between. This Linden has never woven his fingers through mine, never chosen me from a line of weary Gathered girls, never said he loved me in a myriad of coloured lights. We are nothing to each other.”

“I don't dare touch her. Loss is a knowledge I'm sorry to have. Perhaps the only thing worse than experiencing it, is watching it replay anew in someone else--all the awful stages picking up like a chorus that has to be sung.”