She felt the depth of her losses before they were realized, and she wondered, Is there still hope? Did she even dare hold on to such a tenuous thing as hope?
They looked to each other for support, for strength, and at times, motivation, to remember why and for whom they lived.
She had walked to the brink, abandoning all belief, and just before the bitter end, she was pulled from the abyss by faith.
She took comfort in the familiarity of his smell, knowing that if she lost all her possessions and her home, at least she would have her family.
The boy’s skeletal frame was now all that remained of him, and through his flesh could be seen the steady beat of his indomitable heart.
Her sadness was like a deep well just beneath the surface of her determination.
He just wasn’t into flaunting his awesomeness, but sometimes a person’s awesomeness simply flaunts itself, even when you politely ask it not to.
Nothing monumental happened, the earth didn’t shake, and lightning didn’t strike. There was just a simple moment of raw emotion, unbridled and exposed to the daylight.
In high school, though, if you call someone out on their shit you get bullied. It’s really a horrible time in life. Honestly, I don’t even know why there is an entire genre of books dedicated to it.
She considered what had made Denmark home to her anyway. Was it the sense of familiarity? That wherever she went there were echoes of a hundred memories she could pluck from her thoughts?