“Death had taken his smirk and his scowl. He was gray-faced and gutted, and I crouched beside him for a moment, unable to comprehend the reality of it all. The birds warbled above me and the sky was blue. That death could exist on a beautiful day was inconceivable to me.”

“Death had taken his smirk and his scowl. He was gray-faced and gutted, and I crouched beside him for a moment, unable to comprehend the reality of it all. The birds warbled above me and the sky was blue. That death could exist on a beautiful day was inconceivable to me.”

— Amy Harmon