“I was poor,” he said. “Not the poor where you want things you can’t have. Not the poor where you’re bitter about what other people are doing or what they own. Poor like you don’t know if you’re going to be eating at nightfall. Like you aren’t sure whether there will be clothes for you to wear. Like if you get sick, you’re going to die and you’re okay with that because all you know is how hungry and thirsty and tired you are.” “God, Syn—” When she reached over and put her hand on the sleeve of his leather jacket, he moved away sharply. “No. I’m going to get through this once and then I’m never
...more
