It's Not About Being Fearless, It's About

Some Things Are Hard To Let Go Of.

Caleb And Tris Exchange A Look. The Skin On His Face And On Her Knuckles Is Nearly The Same Colour, Purple-blue-green, As If Drawn With Ink. This Is What Happens When Siblings Collide - They Injure Each Other In The Same Way.

I Feel The Urge, Familiar Now, To Wrench Myself From My Body And Speak Directly Into Her Mind. It Is The Same Urge, I Realize, That Makes Me Want To Kiss Her Every Time I See Her, Because Even A Sliver Of Distance Between Us Is Infuriating. Our Fingers, Loosely Woven A Moment Ago, Now Clutch Together, Her Palm Tacky With Moisture, Mine Rough In Places Where I Have Grabbed Too Many Handles On Too Many Moving Trains. Now She Looks Pale And Small, But Her Eyes Make Me Think Of Wide-open Skies That I Have Never Actually Seen, Only Dreamed Of.

It Seems Like The Rebellions Never Stop, In The City, In The Compound, Anywhere. There Are Just Breaths Between Them, And Foolishly, We Call Those Breaths “peace".

Peter Would Probably Throw A Party If I Stopped Breathing.' 'well,' He Says, 'i Would Only Go If There Was Cake.