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You had to be a whole person to be worth mourning. She’d never been that to her mother. Never been anything more than a relic.
She could count the number of people who loved her on one hand, and they all kept begging for the only thing she couldn’t give them.
And so, a love story turned to horror, as surely as eternal summer faded to withered fall.
The scent of paper, the orderliness of printed words, the sensation of page edges beneath her fingers smoothed the waves of her thoughts to placidity.
“This ends in roots and bones. For all of you. It always ends in roots and bones.”
“A forest in your bones, a graveyard beneath your feet. There are no heroes here.”
People with power resent losing it, and too much power for too long a time can make a villain of anyone.”
Sometimes you don’t mourn people so much as you mourn who they could’ve been.”
