With this in mind, Ava tells herself to be present and celebrate the holiday instead of wishing it was over. After all, one is given only a certain number of Christmases in one’s life.

Fear gripped her like hands around the neck, the way it could only happen in an unfamiliar room in the pitch black of night.

Meredith immersed herself in the novels. For some reason, fiction hit on the meaning of life so much more concisely than real life itself did.

She could hear the voices and laughter coming from the yard, and she thought, really, this was the best part of any wedding, not the ceremony or the cake or the dancing but the downtime...

What happened when we died? How were we to know that death wasn’t as profound an adventure as life was?