More on this book
Kindle Notes & Highlights
It was the silence that he found to be the hardest thing to handle, so he filled it with his weeping.
and I wonder what I have to give to get closer to who I am supposed to be.
Everything reeked of despair and old tears.
When she’d been a little girl, she’d played hiding games rather well. Maybe those weren’t games at all? Maybe they were survival skills dressed like games so you can learn how to face horror with a smile.
She didn’t know if it was part of a sales pitch or that it was important to share the only gift the dead can leave: memories.
Remembering someone the way they were and not the way you’d rather recall them can be difficult. Memory tends to reshape the past, and after this reformed creation is observed, the full, raw truth looks false, diminished, soured by comparison.
I buried the truth about my brother for so long that now when I dig up the past, none of what I recall feels exactly real anymore; it feels more like it belongs in one of my stories.
