#br2k19

Individually Ethan and I are above-average intelligent people, so why are we so stupid together?

“Truly, they [the murderers] had thought about everything, except about Hercule Poirot.”

Three years later and drowning in lies, we’re suddenly prepared to lose everything for the chance at something real.

Someone picked up the sun and pinned it to the sky again, but every day it hangs a little lower than the day before. It's like a negligent parent who only knows one half of who you are. It never sees how its absence changes people. How different we are in the dark.

Not that I care. What’s one more scar? The god has scarred me. The hyggja has scarred me. A mountain cat. Now the otti. Each scar marks me as a survivor. A warrior of the wild.

It seems we are dreadfully tangled, you and I.

“Coincidences are just a system we don’t understand yet.”