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Quote by Matshona Dhliwayo

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Matshona Dhliwayo

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“Good. That’s good. I’ll rest, and then I’ll be better. I toppled to the side. It’s cold, but it’ll ... get ... better. “Catalina.” A voice seeped through the haze. It was deep. Urgent. My lips were cool and felt detached from my body, so I didn’t answer. “Fuck.” That voice again. Then, something warm fell on my forehead. “Jesus, fuck. Catalina.” I messed up. I ... knew. I had done something wrong, and I wanted to admit it out loud to whoever was there, but all I accomplished was a mumble that didn’t really sound like ... anything. “Hey.” That voice softened, no longer sounding angry. And I ... I was so tired. “Open those big brown eyes.”

“Blurred bodies moved in broad, paintbrush strokes in his peripheral vision—in and out, in and out—but in that whirlwind, she appeared vibrant, well-defined, permanently immovable, an Unmoved Mover. In her electrifying presence, God Himself became an apprentice, a secondary Being. He tried to speak, but in that rare moment, words refused to be excavated from the depths of his soul in time. So, he stood by—aloof, ignored—saying nothing at all.”

“Zero chance of Austen ever talking to her again. One hell of a kiss they'd share. Two fortune cookies they'd had for dessert. Getting just three hours of sleep the night Austen had stayed over, lying awake, trying to figure out how to tell her who she was. Four hours of waiting in the ER until someone had finally looked at the cut on her forehead. The five points of the star that had crashed down on her. Six years had gone by since she'd last been so interested in someone. It would take more than the Seven Wonders of the World for Austen to forgive her and become her friend, let alone more. Eight stitches in her forehead that would forever make her remember their first meeting.”