It Would Be Nice If Life Worked

It Is Amazing How Pretending To Be In A Different Faction Changes Everything -- Even The Way I Walk. That Must Be Why It's So Strange That I Could Easily Belong In Three Of Them.

I Feel The Urge, Familiar Now, To Wrench Myself From My Body And Speak Directly Into Her Mind. It Is The Same Urge, I Realize, That Makes Me Want To Kiss Her Every Time I See Her, Because Even A Sliver Of Distance Between Us Is Infuriating. Our Fingers, Loosely Woven A Moment Ago, Now Clutch Together, Her Palm Tacky With Moisture, Mine Rough In Places Where I Have Grabbed Too Many Handles On Too Many Moving Trains. Now She Looks Pale And Small, But Her Eyes Make Me Think Of Wide-open Skies That I Have Never Actually Seen, Only Dreamed Of.

But Christina And I Are Not People Who Cry Together; We're People Who Fight Together. So I Hold My Tears In.

The Reason The Factions Were Evil Is Because There Was No Way Out Of Them. They Gave Us The Illusion Of Choice Without Actually Giving Us A Choice.

I'm Surprised You Know That," I Say Quietly, " Since You Left Halfway Through My One And Only Fight." "it Wasn't Something I Wanted To Watch." He Says. What's That Supposed To Mean?