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He is not the same person as when we met, but . . . neither am I. Time has refined us, but instead of pushing us apart, we’re closer than ever.

Ann Aguirre

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Ann Aguirre
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: August 27
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
the United States of America
Ellen Connor
Ava Gray
Ever
Closer
Time
Pushing
Apart
Mets
Neither
Instead
Persons
Person
Refined

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A divided heart offers a strange sensation.
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This is not a love story. It is my life, and as such, there is love, loss, war, death, and sacrifice. It's about things that needed to be done and choices made. I regret nothing.
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But I miss the woman I was, even as I learn to accept the new creature I’ve become.
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Did he die well? No, I thought. Nobody did. They just died.
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There’s a reason I hate jigsaw puzzles. I don’t have the patience to find all the border pieces, especially when they’re all the same shade of gray.
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For I need this scar over my heart to remind me. Crazy as it sounds, if I can bear the wound on my body, it lessens what I must carry on my soul. How he knew that about me, I cannot fathom.
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How can you miss someone who’s right beside you?
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For peace to take hold, one person must first stop fighting.
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I admired Stalkers style. He was incredibly fast using two small blades strapped to the backs of his hands. Slash slash slash. Fighting him you wouldn’t die of one great wound but instead bleed out slowly surprised to find yourself weak and dying after a thousand cuts.
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We're broken in complementary ways, thus rendering our damage comprehensible to each other.
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We stand a professional distance apart, as if I can’t feel his pain screaming in my head. Mine amplifies his they share a joint sound—that of glass breaking—until they swell to a crescendo that deafens.
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It’s easy to do right when everything goes right. But let everything go wrong, and see how difficult it becomes.
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Sometimes I could almost hate you because you don't understand how much you mean to me, how dark and empty I was before. Solnyshko moyo.
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Sometimes I miss the old me.
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If there had been another female for him since we arrived in Salvation, I needed to cut off all her hair and beat her half to death. The strength of that impulse scared me, and I took a step back. Deuce the girl was every bit as vicious as the Huntress, it seemed
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If so, I couldn't imagine how the opposite gender managed to get out of bed in the morning. They might be lovely to look at, but clear thinking wasn't their strong point.
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We stood back-to-back, blocking and striking in harmony sometimes it felt like his arms and legs were an extension of me. I could count on him to keep them off me from behind.
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I have had passionate kisses and fierce ones, kisses so sweet they tasted like pure honey and kisses that cut like knives, but until this moment, I’ve never had one that said both hello and good-bye.
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Just . . . love me, and let tomorrow look after itself.
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Here in the enclave, one didn't prosper by demonstrating too much independent thought.
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