“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
She should have said something cool, something casual. Instead, she heard herself say, “The arboretum opens at eight. I make terrible coffee, but the greenhouse is warm.” “I’m not going anywhere,” he said
Elias, a methodical historian who categorized the world into facts, found the first letter tucked inside a 1920s ledger. It wasn't a record; it was a . “To the person who finds this: I hope you know that some risks are worth the silence.” “I’m not going anywhere