wednesday with no siovhan words...

“she belonged to me,” chris said simply. “she was, you know, all the things i wasn’t. and i was all the things she wasn’t. she could paint circles around anyone; i can’t even draw a straight line. she was never into sports; i’ve always been.” chris lifted his outstretched palm and curled his fingers. “her hand,” he said. “it fit mine.”


{j. picoult - the pact}

♥