Words left their mouths to hang frozen in midair.

I said nothing for a time, just ran my fingertips along the edge of the human-shaped emptiness that had been left inside me.

All alone in an unfamiliar place, like some solitary explorer who's lost his compass and his map. Is this what it means to be free?

A question wells up inside me, a question so big it blocks my throat and makes it hard to breathe. Somehow I swallow it back, finally choosing another. 'Are memories such an important thing?'It depends,' she replies, and closes her eyes. 'In some cases, they're the most important thing there is.

I'm going to live to be twenty-five,' she said, 'then die.

The better you were able to imagine what you wanted to imagine, the farther you could flee from reality.