She knows that feeling too. Of believing that each time someone says her name, it’s to tell her that something bad has happened.

Forty’s the new thirty,” they’d joke.Until heartbreak and grief enter your life, and then forty’s the new one hundred.

A tiny bit. It’s strange. You’re writing a letter to someone who’s never going to read it, so it kind of frees you up a bit.

But grieving people are selfish. They won’t let you comfort them and they say you don’t understand and they make you feel useless when all your life you’ve been functional to them.

Y tampoco nada de consoladores -dijo-, aun que se lo mucho que deseas uno. Lo cual no es ninguna sorpresa, ya que…-,Quieres dejarlo de lado de una vez?-De lado…Encima…Debajo… -Bram le acaricio la curvatura del...