“This is the part where they try to make you remember,” said Sadie. She looked at my wrists. “Is it working?” Without realizing it, I’d pushed one sleeve of my pajamas up and was rubbing the gauze that circled my wrist. I stopped, and let the sleeve fall back where it was.”

“Let’s all roll up our sleeves and get back to work. Or let’s create jobs where other people roll up other people’s sleeves, so these other people can get to work helping other people get to work. That’s brilliant. I should be a politician.”

“I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by my wrist and pushed me back into my chair. 'It is both, or none,' said he. 'You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say to me.”

“I curl up, make myself smaller, try to disappear entirely. Wrapped in silence, I slide my bracelet that reads 'mentally disoriented' around and around my wrist.”

“You should be dead," he said, his voice full of wonder. "How is it that you're still alive?" Jaw clenched, I worked at his grip on me, trying to get my fingers between him and my wrist. "I work hard at it.”

“I like the places where one part meets another, I think, eyes to cheek, wrist to hands.”