Take a drink everytime you hear you're not enough. Not the right fit. Not the right look. Not the right focus. Not the right drive. Not the right time.

”Well,” she says, finishing her drink. “You’ve stripped me of my date. The least you can do is try and fill the space.” And just like that, the green in Luc’s eyes is back, brighter.

Take a drink everytime you hear you're not enough. Not the right fit. Not the right look. Not the right focus. Not the right drive. Not the right time.

Blink and you’re twenty-eight, and everyone else is now a mile down the road, and you’re still trying to find it, and the irony is hardly lost on you that in wanting to live, to learn, to find yourself, you’ve gotten lost.

He has given her a gift tonight, though she doubts he knows it. Time has no face, no form, nothing to fight against. But in his mocking smile, his toying words, the darkness has given her the one thing she truly needs: an enemy.

Addie is not going to the end of the world, but she must go somewhere, and in that moment, she decides. She is going to Paris.

”Don’t be a stranger,” says Sam. “I won’t,” promises Addie

“I remember you.” Three words, large enough to tip the world. I remember you.

There is Luc, dressed in an elegant black suit. He is beautiful. He is always beautiful. “Hello, my dear.” Max’s frown deepens. “Do you two know each other?” ”No,” she says at the same time Luc says “Yes.”

“I remember you.” Three words, large enough to tip the world. I remember you.

And when she looks up into his eyes, she sees a new shade of green, and knows exactly what it is. The color of a man off-balance. His chest rises and falls as if it were a human thing. Here is a place to put the knife. “I would rather be a ghost.”