“The guard's name was Mo, short for Molasses, as in slow as molasses or thick as molasses. The nickname had been his since he was so young he no longer remembered what his real name was. ANd it was true that from his earliest infancy, although his heart was as big and as warm and as generous as an open hand, his brain had seemed just a tiny bit small.”

“Once Mo had closed the gates, he returned to his little stone hut, and his half-eaten sandwich of butter and canned sardines, and his mug of thick hot chocolate, which every night he poured carefully into a thermos labeled COFFEE.”

“Maybe he sees it on my face, that fraction of a second whenI let my guard down, because in that moment his expression softens and his eyesgo bright as flame and even though I barely see him move, suddenly he hasclosed the space between us and he’s wrapping his warm hands over myshoulders—fingers so warm and strong I almost cry out—and saying, “Lena. Ilike you, okay? That’s it. That’s all. I like you.” His voice is so low and hypnoticit reminds me of a song. I think of predators dropping silently from trees: I thinkof enormous cats with glowing amber eyes, just like his.”

“I’ve been trying so hard not to think his name, not to even breathe the idea of him”

“I put my forehead on his collarbone, place one hand on his chest. Its rhythm reassures me: He is real, and he is now.”

“He draws a slow circle in the dirt with his toe, the first physical sign of discomfort or distraction he has given since we arrived. In that moment I am in awe of him: Since I've known him he has done nothing but support me and give me comfort and listen to me, and all this time he has been carrying the weight of his own secrets too.”

“I remember Lena's expression when he knocked on the door; and how Alex had looked at her when she finally let him into the storeroom. I remember exactly what he was wearing, too, and the mess of his hair, the sneakers with their blue-tinged laces. His right shoe was untied. He didn't notice.He didn't notice anything but Lena.”