Reaching and reached. Cassia
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Louisville, an hour after dark, is a carpet of gilt thumbtacks below them, with straight, twinkling lines like strings of beads leading out from it. Southeastward now, toward the Tennessee state-line. ("Jane Brown's Body")
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Right then I knew we were feeling the same thing. I knew we loved Cassia, if not exactly the same way, then the same amount. And the amount was: completely.
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What did you think about?" I wish I could tell him that I thought about him, but I lied to him once and I won't do it again. And besides, I wasn't thinking about Xander either.
"I thought about angels," I say.
"Angels?"
"You know. The ones in the old stories. How they can fly to heaven."
"Do you think anyone believes in them anymore?" He asks.
"I don't know. No. Do you?"
"I believe in you," he says, his voice hushed and almost reverent. "That's more faith than I ever thought I'd have.
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