“I’d pick this place, too,” he continues with a nod. “For?” I ask. “Living. If I were a tree. This is where I’d grow.” “You’d never be a tree, though,” I say. He glances toward me then. “Why? Not dignified and stately enough?” “I can’t imagine you standing still in one spot for hundreds of years. You’re too alive.”
―
Briar Prescott,
And Then You
