When the Moon Hatched (Moonfall, #1)

by Sarah A. Parker

The harder you care, the more fragile everything seems. Easier to just . . . Not.

Survival’s funny. Some wear it like a whisper, others like a scream. Mine’s a scorched skeleton of flame-forged rage that keeps me upright. Keeps me moving forward.

I think my fingers would get itchy. There’s too much trash to take out.

Sadness is like stones that stack inside you, making it harder to move. Ignorance is my self-preservation tonic, and I’ll swear by it until I die.