“Oh, come on, Arthur.""I don't want to hear it, Andy.""Jesus Christ""He doesn't want to hear it, either.”

“Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.”

“I don't want to hope for anything anymore. I don't want to pray that Max is alive and safe. Or Alex Steiner.Because the world did not deserve them.”

“Papa sat with me tonight. He brought the accordion down and sat close to where Max used to sit. I often look at his fingers and face when he plays. the accordion breathes. There are lines on his cheeks. They look drawn on, and for some reason, when I see them, I want to cry. It is not for any sadness or pride. I just like the way they move and change. Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.”

“Want me, I beg, but nothing comes.”

“Clearly," said Arthur,"you're an idiot- but you're our kind of idiot. Come on.”

“Our footsteps run, and I don't want them to end. I want to run and laugh and feel like this forever. I want to avoid any awkward moment when the realness of reality sticks its fork into our flesh, leaving us standing there, together. I want to stay here, in this moment, and never go to other places, where we don't know what to say or what to do.”