The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

by V.E. Schwab

Déjà vu. Déjà su. Déjà vécu. Already seen. Already known. Already lived.

“If you could live somewhere with only one season,” asks Henry, “what would it be?” “Spring,” she says, “when everything is new.” “Fall,” he says, “when everything is fading.”

That time always ends a second before you’re ready. That life is the minutes you want minus one.