Emma laughed darkly. "It's a completely mad idea, I know. But my brain is a hope-making engine.""I'm so glad," I said. "Mine is a worst-case-scenario generator.""We need each other, then.""Yes. But we already knew that, I think.

..he had trampled her poor, pining heart, and the wound was still raw, even these many years later.

Maybe I could use a little metal on the inside, I thought. If I'd kept my heart better armored, where would I be now?Easy—I’d be at home, medicating myself into a monotone. Drowning my sorrows in video games. Working shifts at Smart Aid. Dying inside, day by day, from regret.

I wanted to thank you," I said.She wrinkled her nose and squinted like I'd said something funny. "Thank me for what?" she said."You give me strength I didn't know I had,"; I said. "You make me better.

A song and a smile from someone I cared about could be enough to distract me from all that darkness, if only for a little while.

I wanted to tell her then that I loved her. I thought that might help, by grounding us in something we were sure about rather than everything we weren't.

Which was just well: goodbyes had never been my strong suit anyway, and lately my life had felt like an unbroken series of them. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

Maybe," she said. "Maybe. But now you're making promises you might not be able to keep, and that's how people in love get very badly hurt.

If.'If' always propelled my thoughts back to the present, because 'if' depended so much on keeping my wits about me. I couldn't properly sense things if I was distracted. 'If' demanded my full presence and participation in 'now.'If', as much as it scared me, also kept me sane.