“Now let us go, love, down the winding stair,With fingers intertwined...”
“Stairs, are they going up or are they going down? They’re so confusing! If love were a physical thing, it would be stairs.”
“Voices tossed up and down the long flights of stairs, sourceless and intertwining like crickets' chorus, gentle as fingers on my hair. Night, they said, good night, sleep well. Welcome back, Lexie. Yes, welcome back. Good night. Sweet dreams.”
“We are all on the stairs, my friend; some of us are going down, some us are going up!”
“Get your runtcheeks down those stairs, right now”
“Cold,” he said, pressing a finger to my pale wrist.“Not cold so much as underoxygenated,” I said.“I love it when you talk medical to me,” he said. He stood, and pulled me up with him, and did not let go of my hand until we reached the stairs.”