“Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don't want to miss any of them.”

“Thanks," I say. Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don't want to miss any of them.”

“I have so many friends I couldn’t even count them on one hand—not even if I had six fingers. Now, if I had seven fingers, I could count on them, but I still wouldn’t be able to count on my friends.”

“Right,” I fumed, my index finger poking him in thechest. “So we’re even then. My kiss didn’t count because itwas an accident and yours didn’t count because it wasstrictly for medical purposes. Neither of them counted askisses.”“Would you have wanted them to?” Brent demandedsuddenly, bending his neck so he whispered it in my ear”

“I feel it in my pocket. I don't want to lose it. It's one of the only things that's making me me right now. Without my cell phone, who will I be? I won't have any friends because I don't have their numbers memorized. I'll barely have a family since I don't know their cell phone numbers, just their home line. I'll be like an animal.”

“I kept the fingers of my left hand crossed all the time, while on my right-hand fingers I counted anything at all—steps to the refrigerator, seconds on the clock, words in a sentence—to keep my head occupied. The counting felt like something to hang on to, as if finding the right numbers might somehow crack the code on whatever system ran the slippery universe we were moving through.”