Under the Whispering Door

by T.J. Klune

I can’t grieve for myself.” Hugo shook his head slowly. “Of course you can. We do it all the time, regardless of if we’re alive or not, over the small things and the big things. Everyone is a little bit sad all the time.

Death has a beauty to it. We don’t see it because we don’t want to. And that makes sense. Why would we want to focus on something that takes us away from everything we know? How do we even begin to understand that there’s more than what we see?”

“It’s never enough, is it? Time. We always think we have so much of it, but when it really counts, we don’t have enough at all.”