The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender

while the thought of being dead seemed appealing, the actual act of dying did not. Dying required too much action. And if recent events proved anything, my body wasn’t going to give over to death without a fierce fight; so if I were to kill myself, I’d have to make sure I could do it. That I’d be good and dead once it was all over and not mutilated or half deranged but still dreadfully alive.

She no longer had one to give.

Emilienne silently promised she’d be good to her husband, as long as he didn’t ask for her heart

if the past had taught her anything, it was that as long as she didn’t love someone, he wasn’t as likely to die or disappear

Love makes us such fools,”

“Just because love don’t look the way you think it should don’t mean you don’t have it.”

Rowe shrugged. “The point is, if I cared what everyone else th-thought, I’d see myself as p-pitiful, but I don’t.” He smiled. “I think I’m pretty cool.”

I laughed.

“I just don’t think you should let other people d-define you,” Rowe said quickly. “I think you could be anything you wanted.”

“And that might just be the root of the problem: we’re all afraid of each other, wings or no wings.”