We are young, we have heart; Born in this world as it all falls apart.
“You’re not going to die. I forbid it. All right?”
“All right,” he whispers.
“Nervousness seeps into terror as I anticipate what is to come. I could be dead, flat-out dead, in an hour.”
But suddenly I am thinking of Gale and his forty-two names in that big glass ball and how odds are not in his favor. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing about me because his face darkens and he turns away. “But there are still thousands of slips,” I wish I could whisper to him.
“Good luck, Girl on Fire.”