“The truth was, I wasn't sure. But I wanted to keep believing people could change, and it was certainly easier to do so when you were in the midst of it.”

“There was something so heavy about the burden of history, of the past. I wasn't sure I had it in me to keep looking back.”

“Through my tears, I could hear her, saying it was all going to be okay, and I knew she believed this. But I was sure of something, too: it's a lot easier to be lost than found. It's the reason we're always searching, and rarely discovered--so many locks, not enough keys.”

“There were so many people, so much to navigate, and as the distance fluctuated between us his hand kept slipping, down my arm to my wrist. And maybe he was going to let go as people pressed in on all sides, but all I could think was how when nothing made sense and hadn't for ages, you just have to grab onto anything you feel sure of. So as I felt his fingers loosening around my wrist, I just wrapped my own around them, right, and held on”

“Being nice was the ideal, the one place where people didn't get loud, or so quiet they could scare you. If you could just be nice, then you wouldn't have to worry about arguments at all. But being nice wasn't as easy as it seemed, especially when the rest of the world could be so mean.”

“Pieces and parts were always easier to process. The full picture, the entire story, was another thing entirely. But you just never knew. Sometimes, people could surprise you.”

“So say I’m your mom.''What?' I said.'I’m your mom,' he repeated. 'Now tell me you want to quit modeling.'I could feel myself blushing. 'I can’t do that,' I said.'Why not?' he asked. 'Is it so hard to believe? You think I’m not a good role-player?''No,' I said. 'It’s just–''Because I am. Everyone wanted me to be their mother in group.'I just looked at him. 'I just… It’s weird.''No, it’s hard. But not impossible. Just try it.'A week earlier, I hadn’t even known what color his eyes were. Now, we were family. At least temporarily.”