Perhaps the heartwas not made to break, but to stretchbeyond what's believedit could survive. The cracksare not proofof weakness. They are evidencethat loveonce lived there. Each sorrowcarves deeper. Some woundsbecome scars, not to remind usof what we lost, but to honorwhat we carried, all we endured, and lifestill...

"This isn't real," Evie said, scrambling to her feet and brushing grass from her jeans. "This can't be real. We were just in the bookstore, and now..." She gestured wildly at the endless golden fields surrounding them. "People don't...