“But there’s something about Watonka, they say. Something that pulls us back, the electromagnet that holds all the metal in place”

“Because maybe Watonka was only ever supposed to be a temporary stopover, and maybe I will chase that train over the hill, and maybe we're all destined to leave this place, for sure, for real, together or alone. But for right now, we're here.”

“Keep it,” he says. “Something to remember me by.”“I don’t need a sweatshirt for that,” I say, already putting it back on.“Then keep it because it’s cool.”“Deal.”

“But then I realized that I was holding on to something that didn't exist anymore. That the person I missed didn't exist anymore.People change. The things we like and dislike change.And we can wish they couldn't all day long but that never works.”

“I was, but then I realized that I was holding on to something that didn't exist anymore. That the person I missed didn't exist anymore. People change. The things we like and dislike change. And we can wish they couldn't all day long but that never works.”

“What good are all those bits of nostalgia when the one thing that truly holds you to a place - the one thing that really makes it home over any other dot on the map - crumbles?”

“Nothing ever really goes away--it just changes into something else. Something beautiful.”