His fingers slide into my hair, and I hold on to his arms to stay steady as we press together like two blades at a stalemate. He is stronger than anyone I know, and warmer than anyone else realizes; he is a secret that I have kept, and will keep for the rest of my life.

It's stupid to miss a thing when there are so many people to miss instead, but I miss this train already, and all the others that carried me through the city, my city, after I was brave enough to ride them. I brush my fingers over the car wall, just once, and then jump.

I take a deep breath. I'm not sure where that swell of desperation came from, but know that I've acknowledge it, it's impossible to ignore, like a living thing has awakened from a long sleep inside me. It writhes in my stomach and throat. I need to leave. I need the truth.

Though I know that he had something to do with the attack simulation, and with all those deaths, I find it difficult to pair those actions with the man I see in front of me. I wonder if this is how it is with all evil men, that to someone, they look just like good men, talk like good men, are just as likeable as good men.

Death could not erase her, she is permanent.

They'll care for each other, she says. That's what people do. I smile and close my eyes.

The minutes I had left with him fall away like dead leaves pulled from branches.

I prefer to look at it another way-which is that if they are persistent enough, even tiny drops of water, over time, can change the rock forever. And it will never change back.

I don't know, I guess I agree with them. That if everyone would just keep learning about the world around them, they would have far fewer problems.