Meghan

“We’re running out of time, he said.

As if time were the kind of thing you could run out of, as if it were measured into bowls that were handed to us at birth and if we ate too much or too fast or right before jumping into the water then our time would be lost, wasted, already spent.

But time is beyond our finite comprehension. It’s endless, it exists outside of us; we cannot run out of it or lose track of it or find a way to hold on to it. Time goes on even when we do not.”
― Tahereh Mafi, Unravel Me

“Are you kidding?” I stop in the middle of the kitchen. Spin around. My face is pulled together in disbelief. “You’ve spoken to me maybe once in the two weeks I’ve been here. I hardly even notice you anymore.”

“Okay, hold up,” he says, turning to block my path. “We both know there’s no way you haven’t noticed all of this” — he gestures to himself — “so if you’re trying to play games with me, I should let you know up front that it’s not going to work.”

“What?” I frown. “What are you talking abou—”

“You can’t play hard to get, kid.” He raises an eyebrow. “I can’t even touch you. Takes ‘hard to get’ to a whole new level, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh my God,” I mouth, eyes closed, shaking my head. “You are insane.”

He falls to his knees. “Insane for your sweet, sweet love!”
― Tahereh Mafi, Unravel Me

“He won’t stop staring.
“What?” I ask.
“How much do you weigh?”
“Wow. Is that how you talk to every girl you meet? That explains so much.”
“I’m about one hundred seventy-five pounds,” he says. “Of muscle.”
I stare at him. “Would you like an award?”
“Well, well, well,” he says, cocking his head, the barest hint of a smile flickering across his face. “Look who’s the smart-ass now.”
“I think you’re rubbing off on me,” I say.”
― Tahereh Mafi, Unravel Me

“We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it'll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it.”
― Tahereh Mafi, Unravel Me