During the night she had told me, 'I feel old. I miss being young.' She curled her arms over her chest, looking already like all the dead Papillons I hade seen littering the grass beneath the sycamores on campus. Unlike any of the other Papillons, though, she was in my apartment, curled in my lap. I missed being young too. Only I had thousands of days to go.
-Maggie Stiefvater
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