Wither

Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.

Fate, I think, is a thief.

I always knew I was an excellent liar; I just didn't know that I had it in me to fool myself.

Eventually I realize that I am holding on to him just as tightly as he holds on to me. And here we are: two small dying things, as the world ends around us like falling autumn leaves.

I'll tell you something about true love. There's no science to it. It's as natural as the sky.

‎I have always been fascinated by the ocean, to dip a limb beneath its surface and know that I'm touching eternity, that it goes on forever until it begins here again.

Did you tell freedom hello for me?

You've been captive for so long that you don't even realize you want freedom anymore.

Love is not enough to keep any of us alive.

who once had dreams of saving the world, now laughs at anyone who tries.

The trick was looking past the illusion, because the exit was never as far away as it seemed.

There's nothing here to say good-bye to. There's no dancing girl. No mischievous smile. She's gone, off with her sisters, broken free, escaped. And if she were here now, she would say, "Go.

She smiles at our husband as she moves, and he blushes, overcome by her beauty. But I know what her smile really means...Her smile is her revenge.

The world seems so clean if you only looked up.

Real’ is a dirty word in this place.

So how long do you think it’ll be?” he says. “Before the next hurricane comes along to take you home.” “Can I tell you my biggest fear?” I say. “Yes. Tell me.” “That it will be a very windless four years.

Rhine. The river that, somewhere out there, has broken free.

You’re insane, you know that?” he says. “It’s the only thing keeping me afloat,” I say.

I can almost see what Gabriel meant when he asked, 'What has the free world got that you can’t get here?' Almost. Freedom, Gabriel. That’s what you can’t get here.

As I go, I hear her screaming my name, in a brutal, bloody way, like she's being murdered, which maybe she is. But slowly. It will take her six years to die.

But instead of tears, when I press my face against the pillow, a horrible, primal scream comes out of me. It's unlike anything I thought myself capable of. Rage, unlike anything I've ever known.

Even the human race can't claim to be natural anymore. We are fake, dying things. How fitting that I would end up in this sham of a marriage.

Tell freedom I said hello.' 'If I happen to see it, I will.

Suddenly the clouds seem high above us. They’re moving over us in an arch, circling the planet. They have seen abysmal oceans and charred, scorched islands. They have seen how we destroyed the world. If I could see everything, as the clouds do, would I swirl around this remaining continent, still so full of color and life and seasons, wanting to protect it? Or would I just laugh at the futility of it all, and meander onward, down the earth’s sloping atmosphere?

It's the silence I imagine in the rest of the world, the silence of an endless ocean and uninhabitable island, a silence that can be seen from space.

And here we are: two small dying things, as the world ends around us like falling autumn leaves.

What have you done? What have you given up?' So many things, Cecily. More than you know.

I wonder if she has figured out that I'll never love Linden, especially not in the way she does, and that he'll never love anyone the way he loves her. I wonder if she realizes, despite all her efforts to train me, that I can never take her place.

Times like this, when she slips her hand into mine and holds on tight, and our husband becomes just a shadow in the doorway.