Kirsty Greenwood

“Does it even matter?” I’d asked, to which she’d had to “step outside for some air.”

You have a way of cutting right to the meanest comment you could possibly make in any given situation.”

I’m panicking on the inside but must present as gala serene on the outside. Look how I belong here! See how I glide in like this is just an everyday part
of my charmed life! I

Maybe I’m a dark-hearted person.”

“I see you. You’re not a dark-hearted person. God no. If your heart was a colour, it’d be yellow. The colour of a sunflower.”

I laugh. “That was so corny, Cooper. You sure you’re a writer?”

Cooper does a mock-wounded face. “I take it back. Your heart is hollow and grey like an old tin can.”

And then you. It’s like magic. Look at him. He’s fallen. All the way.

“A star in our midst

Like his heart had cracked, and while he could find ways to plaster over those cracks, he knew they’d never truly mend.

And human will? That’s even more powerful than anything we can conjure up here.”

I’m not ready to know what that life looks like without him

Talking about everything and nothing—all of the inconsequential things that
add up to mean that you almost know what the person’s going to say before they say it