“She jumped off my bed and shoved my stack of books over; thousands of words crashed onto the floor.”

“Grace: I picked up my sweater from the floor and crawled back into bed. Shoving my pillow aside, I balled up the sweater to use instead.I fell asleep to the scent of my wolf. Pine needles, cold rain, earthy perfume, coarse bristles on my face.It was almost like he was there.”

“World of words lost on the living / I take my place with the walking dead /Robbed of my voice I'm always giving /Thousands of words to this nameless dread.”

“I lost a horse today.''That sounds careless. What happened?''She jumped off a cliff.''A cliff! Is that normal?”

“I missed the sound of her shuffling her homework while I listened to music on her bed. I missed the cold of her feet against my legs when she climbed into bed.I missed the shape of her shadow where it fell across the page of my book. I missed the smell of her hair and the sound of her breath and my Rilke on her nightstand and her wet towel thrown over the back of her desk chair. It felt like I should be sated after having a whole day with her, but it just made me miss her more.”

“Crashing into the trembling voidStretching my hand to youLosing myself to frigid regretIs this fragile loveA wayTo sayGood-bye”

“She could've looked at the tiny miracles in front of her: my feet, my hands, my fingers, the shape of my shoulders beneath my jacket, my human body, but she only stared at my eyes. The wind whipped again, through the trees, but it had no force, no power over me. The cold bit at my fingers, but they stayed fingers."Grace,"I said, very softly. "Say something.""Sam," She said, and I crushed her to me.”