356 Quotes by Amie Kaufman

His loss is like my loss.It's a story about losing people who aren't yet gone.

In the bar, the jukebox comes on. Molley must be trying to drown out the sounds of raised voices. I move toward her, unable to resist; her eyes are wet, her face flushed, and I can finally look at her, want her, let myself touch her without grief turning everything to ashes in my mouth.

His face is close to mine, his hand warm against my back through my shirt. Despite the smile on his lips, his gaze is so sad it feels like my heart is ripping in two, turning to ash as I look at him. He knows as well as I do that neither of us is leaving Avon alive if we touch down again. He’ll never see snow, and I’ll never teach him what skis are.

There is no love in violence. There is. No love. In violence.

He’s as tense as I am, maybe even more so, but it’s so hard to reconcile that with the serenity of weightlessness. His faux-blond hair is floating out away from his head. He’s wearing a worn, much-mended, and too-large shirt his friend in town must’ve found for him to help him blend in. He looks nothing like the Romeo who dragged me off the base, nothing like the Cormac who threw himself between his own people and me. It’s like that guy’s gone, and I killed him.

This time I look at him longer, properly, scanning his face for some sign of what he is thinking—some judgment, some hint of blame or guilt that I’m standing there, talking about leaving his people and mine, about abandoning our whole lives. About running away. But he only smiles at me, his fingers sliding from my cheek to twine around a floating lock of hair, making it spiral in midair.

My throat closes up then, and we’re both silent, with only the rain on the roof to break up the quiet. I study the girl I knew, another casualty of this fight, wondering how the wounds of it will mark her. “Clear skies, Sof.” It’s all I have left to say.“Clear skies,” she whispers. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.

And yet, as I watch them through the palmpad I cannot help but wonder: if the desire to see this place ripped to pieces/if the thought of saving all those lives and hopes and dreams... pales in comparison: to the desire to see her again/to the thought of seeing him again. I wonder.

Though I feel I should warn you that you that you could be here for a while. My friends aren't really known for their punctuality.