And the way it felt?" I whisper, as if that might soften the blow of embarrassment I'm about to deal. "Is that how you were feeling - how you feel - about me?" A breeze comes off the ocean, and my skin feels strangely empty and open as he gives an almost imperceptible nod.

— Elizabeth Norris

Certain moments in my life are imprinted in my memory. They're easy to recall with perfect clarity, whether I want to remember them or not. Any small thing can trigger them: a phrase, a smell, a thought. It brings everything back like I'm reliving that moment, a brief scene in the movie of my life, complete with how horrible I felt at the time. And I usually felt horrible in those moments that I want to forget that stick around.

— Elizabeth Norris

He takes two steps back. Closer to the portal. I can't stop myself. "Ben," I call. And I'm not even embarrassed about how helpless my voice sounds. Don't go." I'll come back for you." He takes another step back. "I promise." Stay." Janelle Tenner," he says. "I will always fucking love you." And then he takes one more step back. Into the portal. And the blackness swallows him whole.

— Elizabeth Norris

Lives are made of strings of moments, and every once in a while, one of those moments is pivotal and defining. It changes everything, alters you so completely that when you look back, there’s a clear before and after

— Elizabeth Norris

Reaching out, I grab his hand and intertwine my fingers with his. And I move into his space until we're not even an inch from each other. Laying my forehead on his chest, I take a deep breath and feel his whole body relax, as if tension is rolling off his body in waves. I was always the kid who loved the smell of gasoline. His free hand comes up, and his fingers slip through my hair before his hand settles between my shoulder blades." Ben," I say into his shirt." Janelle," he whispers back, and I can feel his mouth against my hair. I can feel him smile.

— Elizabeth Norris

Those deep set eyes that look like they could tell stories for days, and that wavy brown hair that feels soft between my fingers. I try to memorize the angles of his jaw and the lines of his lips, because I know. I know this may be the last time I ever see him. Breathe fills my lungs, my throat relaxes, and I can't help but smile. Because I can see what he's thinking as clearly as if he'd spoken. He doesn't want to leave - he doesn't want to go home. He's going to choose me instead.

— Elizabeth Norris