“His absence will haunt their hallways, and he will be a space they can't fill. And then time will pass, and the hole will be gone, like when an organ is removed and the body's fluids flow into the space it leaves. Humans can't tolerate emptiness for long.”

“Humans can't tolerate emptiness for long.”

“His fingers leave streaks of cold on my skin, invisible to the eye, and I think about wrapping his shirt around my fist and pulling him in to kiss me; I think about pressing myself against him, but I can't, because all our secrets would keep a space between us.”

“I think about pressing myself against him, but I can't, because all our secrets would keep a space between us.”

“I have discovered that sitting still leaves little spaces for the grief to get in, so I stay busy.”

“I know that I am birdlike, made narrow and small as if for taking flight, built straight-waisted and fragile. But when he touches me like he can't bear to take his hand away, I don't wish I was any different.”

“I can't tell him I need him. I can't need him, period -- or really, we can't need each other, because who knows how long either of us will last in this war?”