That made love—not grace—the magic ingredient. Then a
new thought hit her. Perhaps love was grace. A shiver went
up her spine. What did that make anger? The antithesis of
grace?

She did not want to know what charm
he had used to make her love him so deeply. She did not want to know it wasn’t real.

Because I don’t believe that you are a slave to what you’ve become. I don’t believe that you simply can’t.

I enjoyed being a police officer; I enjoyed the investigations.

All the pain and fear from the past had faded away, replaced with love and a glimmering hope for tomorrow. Now she knew there had been beauty within God’s plan all along.

The world isn’t always what’s right in front of you, you know? It’s below, it’s above, it’s out there somewhere. Every burn of every light inside every house I see when I look down from the rooftop has a story. Sometimes we just need to change our perspective.
And when I look down at everything, I remember that there’s more out there than just what’s going on in my house—the bullshit with my dad, school, my future. I look at all those full houses, and I remember, I’m just one of many. It’s not to say we’re not special or important, but it’s comforting, I guess. You don’t feel so alone.