“I know grief,” she interrupted, her eyes narrowed. “Gods, do I know grief. You think it wears you down, but no, it turns you into a fortified version of yourself. Although that fortification is often surface level. With the right amount of pressure, at the perfect angle, it can be shattered like a rock.”

“I know grief,” she interrupted, her eyes narrowed. “Gods, do I know grief. You think it wears you down, but no, it turns you into a fortified version of yourself. Although that fortification is often surface level. With the right amount of pressure, at the perfect angle, it can be shattered like a rock.”

— Astrid Scholte