Caroline George

“Making-out is one thing that won’t change even if civilization fizzles and humanity is reduced to two people. So each time Jack and I kiss, it’s as if we’re flipping off the jerks who destroyed our planet, as if we’re screaming at the top of our lungs… We know your secret.And we won’t be made invisible.”

“Every moment of contact between us seems important—every glance, every touch, every word. I don’t understand him, but I know him, and he knows me. It’s this strange connection we share. No matter how often we fight, lie, make mistakes, I choose him and deep down, I think he chooses me, too.”

“There comes a moment when we must choose how we’re going to love someone. Some forms of love leave a sweet memory once they’re gone, others leave scars. But there are forms that when stolen, destroy part of who we are—love that transforms us.”

“Never has it been inappropriate for a girl to wear a red dress.”

“To cherish my purity and set boundaries are, in my opinion, the highest forms of feminism—a woman who saves her body proves she is strong and secure enough to resist the men who seek to claim her, that she’s more than what lies between her legs.”

“You don’t know what love is until you find it,” he whispered, “but when you do, promise me you won’t let it go. Promise you’ll seek it out even when you’re scared it’ll hurt.”

“To describe a kiss is to describe a diary entry or a pair of underwear—each is personal and private, slightly awkward. Very awkward. But necessary.”

“I’d rather not know what lies ahead because I like the dark. I like thinking there is something good in the places I can’t see. And that’s not ignorance. That’s just hope.”

“If I seem to not want to be with him now, it’s only because love scares me too, more than manipulation, because love is a choice I make and not something forced upon me. I trust him, but I don’t trust myself. I must have time to trust myself so I can completely love him.He’s the grenade. I’m the grenade. We’ll blow each other to pieces… Together.”

“After the end of the world, there is a world. Life doesn’t stop. It changes. And it changes me.”

“I am strong and human with a mouth that works like a man’s and a more intelligible brain, and I demand to be heard.”

“Welcome to the apocalypse. Where make-do is a motto and life seems wrong, out-of-place. Where the weak become strong because they have no other choice.”

“Missing someone is the worst form of torture because it never goes away no matter where you are or what you do with your life. When a person is gone and all you have of them is a fuzzy recollection of what it was like to hear your phone buzz with texts from them, the joy you experienced while in their company, that instance when the bond you shared shattered, you long for all that was lost and could’ve been gained. You have memories and nothing more. And no matter how much times passes, you still feel the ache of their absence whenever they rise into your thoughts. Torture.”

“Memories tell me who I was, not who I’ll become. They don’t fix the present any more than they fix the past.”

“What does a freelance researcher do?” “Researches things.” He winks at me and helps lift my bike onto a cobblestone walkway. “It’s not an interesting or particularly sexy job. Nobody wants to date a perpetual studier, but I bet there’s an army of guys crawling over each other to get to you.”More like crawling away. “You’re ridiculous. Who’d ever want to date me?”“Someone like you? There’d be a line at your door as soon as work got out.”“Oh, would you be in the line?” Sarcasm. Not a real question. I don’t care if he responds—heat burns my toes, ears, and everything in-between—well, maybe I care a little.Jack pauses and gazes into me. “Yeah … I’m in the line … and I’m better than all the other guys so you should really pick me. I’m funny. I’m strong, like, I could sweep you off your feet and run without breaking a sweat. I can also blow milk through my nose, but only if I’m drunk and the milk is warm.”

“Our surroundings fade and we exist in unison, two people who once shared cups of coffee, unprecedentedly ourselves in a changing world.”

“It wouldn’t be very ladylike to punch a guy in the balls, but it isn’t very manlike to harass a woman because she has different parts and a sweet face.”

“You see the world for what it is and what it could be,” Jack says. “What you don’t see is the gaping chasm in between … and that’s what I found.”

“You’re different, and I know that’s probably the most cliché response ever given, but it’s the truth. When I look at you, it’s as if I’m reading a novel. No matter how much time I spend studying your pages, there will always be more for me to learn, deeper layers of complexity to baffle me, and plot twists that’ll leave me speechless.”

“The apocalypse was supposed to be cliché drama, Godzilla roaming the streets and zombies crawling from graves to devour the living. I guess all of humankind wanted to believe they’d end with a bang instead of unnoticed silence. We all, deep down, want to believe in a future where our historical monuments and literature hold significance. We want our deaths to be important. We want to matter.”