Page 113 of Molt
“Maybe I only recognized you because it made me.”
Another wound.
“Possibly.” He crawls closer.
Still doesn’t touch me.
“But you hate mushrooms.”
I blink. “What?”
“You hate mushrooms.”
I stare at him.
“You sleep with one foot outside the blanket.”
My throat tightens.
“You order iced coffee when it’s forty degrees outside.”
“August...”
“You laugh when you’re scared.”
Tears blur him.
“You swear at inanimate objects when they inconvenience you.”
I cover my mouth.
“You bought peaches three weeks ago and let every one of them rot.”
A sob turns into a laugh.
He smiles through tears. “That’s you.” His voice breaks. “Not Lenora from 1897.” He presses his fist to his chest. “Sarah. You.”
I can’t speak.
“And I’m in love with you.”
“Don’t.”
“I know what it does.”
“Then don’t say it.”
“But you deserve to know.”
My second heartbeat pounds. His eye in my skull sees him too sharply.
Every detail. Every tear. Every piece of him I’m stealing.
“I’m in love with you,” he says again.
Pain tears through his body and he collapses.
“NO!” I crawl to him.
