"I have no fear of death whatsoever. I suspect that few people do, what they all fear is what might happen in the years or months before death."

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Aching familiar in a way that made me wish I was still eight. Eight was before death or divorce or heartbreak. Eight was just eight. Hot dogs and peanut butter, mosquito bites and splinters, bikes and boogie boards. Tangled hair, sunburned shoulders, Judy Blume, in bed by nine thirty.

— Jenny Han