I wonder if seeing all that death is why she looks a little different to me. More real, more there, like it’s just the most incredible thing in the world that we’re both still alive and I feel my chest get all funny and tight and I think, Here she is, right here, my Viola, she came for me, she’s here– And I find myself thinking how I want to take her hand again and never let it go, to feel the skin of it, the warmth of it, hold it tight against my own hand and–
