Firekeeper's Daughter

by Angeline Boulley

When someone dies, everything about them becomes past tense. Except for the grief. Grief stays in the present.

“Kindness is something that seems small, Daunis, but it’s like tossing a pebble into a pond and the ripples reach further than you thought.”

“He’s had two undercover assignments. First one leaves him with a scar. Now a broken nose. His face is literally a road map of bad decisions.” With a slow shaking of his head, he adds, “That guy better make a career change before he ends up looking like Quasimodo.”

Wisdom is not bestowed. In its raw state, it is the heartbreak of knowing things you wish you didn’t.