“Her expression falls slightly as she senses that my walls are up and she's not nearly strong enough to climb over. Not even today when she is leukaemia's version of Superwoman.”
“She needed facts. Facts were bricks. Maybe she could build herself a wall with them, too, one tall and wide and strong enough to keep her alive when he was gone.”
“Well, for instance, when I left her today, she put her arms around me and felt my shoulder blades, to see if my wings were strong, she said.”
“She said she wanted to be a raindrop and today it finally broke us. She’d found her own to fall with, her own to fall for. Today, she was a raindrop.”
“It's as though she holds to the walls of a canyon. If I move wrong she will look over her shoulder, let go, and take her chances with the fall.”
“She slid her boot soles onto the surface and nearly laughed at her own absurdity - to be careful not to slip even as she prayed to fall through.”