▪ Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.

▪ She would be mortified. He didn’t want to embarrass her, nor did he want to suffer a slow, painful death at her hands.

▪ but I think it’s better this way. That we keep our identities secret and just rest in the fact that some old magic is at play here, connecting our doorways.
But just in case you were wondering … I’ll gladly read whatever you write.

▪ “Autry pities me,” she echoed. “Why? Because I’m a low-class girl who’s out of her depth working for the press?”
“Winnow, I—”
“In your opinion, I should be washing dishes in a restaurant kitchen, shouldn’t I? Or I should be cleaning houses, on my hands and knees, polishing floors for people like you to walk over.”

▪ She took a step back. She didn’t want him to sense how badly his words wounded her. “I see. Well, it’s reassuring to know that if I get the position, it will only be due to pity. And if you get columnist, it will only be due to how much your rich father can bribe Autry to give it to you.”

▪ But just before he deigned to sip the wine, he met Elinor’s eyes. He saw a flicker of fear in her, and he realized she was just as trapped as he was.

▪ Not five minutes later, Roman walked into the office. He was dressed impeccably as usual, in a freshly starched shirt, leather braces on his shoulders, and black trousers without a speck of lint on their pressed front. His dark hair was slicked back, but his countenance was pale.

▪ “It feels like wearing shoes that are too small,” she whispered. “With every step, you notice it. It feels like blisters on your heels. It feels like a lump of ice in your chest that never melts, and you can only sleep a few hours at a time, because you’re always wondering where they are and those worries seep into your dreams. If they’re alive, or wounded, or sick. Some days you wish that you could take their place, no matter the cost. Just so you can have the peace of knowing their fate.”

▪ Do you ever feel as if you wear armor, day after day? That when people look at you, they see only the shine of steel that you’ve so carefully encased yourself in? They see what they want to see in you—the warped reflection of their own face, or a piece of the sky, or a shadow cast between buildings. They see all the times you’ve made mistakes, all the times you’ve failed, all the times you’ve hurt them or disappointed them. As if that is all you will ever be in their eyes.
How do you change something like that? How do you make your life your own and not feel guilt over it?

▪ I think we all wear armor. I think those who don’t are fools, risking the pain of being wounded by the sharp edges of the world, over and over again. But if I’ve learned anything from those fools, it’s that to be vulnerable is a strength most of us fear. It takes courage to let down your armor, to welcome people to see you as you are. Sometimes I feel the same as you: I can’t risk having people behold me as I truly am. But there’s also a small voice in the back of my mind, a voice that tells me, “You will miss so much by being so guarded.”
Perhaps it begins with one person. Someone you trust. You remove a piece of armor for them; you let the light stream in, even if it makes you wince. Perhaps that is how you learn to be soft yet strong, even in fear and uncertainty. One person, one piece of steel.

▪ And yet I keep moving forward. On some days, I’m afraid, but most days, I simply want to achieve those things I dream of.

▪ One person. One piece of armor. I’ll strive for this.
Thank you.

▪ Sometimes I’m afraid to love other people.
Everyone I care about eventually leaves me, whether it’s death or war or simply because they don’t want me. They go places I can’t find, places I can’t reach. And I’m not afraid to be alone, but I’m tired of being the one left behind. I’m tired of having to rearrange my life after the people within it depart, as if I’m a puzzle and I’m now missing pieces and I will never feel that pure sense of completion again.

▪ But time will slowly heal you, as it is doing for me. There are good days and there are difficult days. Your grief will never fully fade; it will always be with you—a shadow you carry in your soul—but it will become fainter as your life becomes brighter. You will learn to live outside of it again, as impossible as that may sound. Others who share your pain will also help you heal. Because you are not alone. Not in your fear or your grief or your hopes or your dreams.
You are not alone.

▪ “Don’t go, Iris,” he said.

▪ “Because I want to write about things that matter. I want my words to be like a line, cast out into the darkness.”

▪ Her heart quickened as she thought, It isn’t the wardrobes connecting us. It’s our typewriters.

▪ I wonder if this is how it feels to be immortal. You’re moving, but not really. You’re existing, but time seems thin, flowing like a current through your fingers.
I try to close my eyes and rest, but I’m too tempted to watch the world pass by my window. A world that seems endless and sprawling. A world that makes me feel small and insignificant in the face of its wildness.

▪ And I shouldn’t hope. I shouldn’t try to send this. I don’t even know your name.
But I think there is a magical link between you and me. A bond that not even distance can break.

▪ “Iris,” he spoke into the lamplight. “Iris, write to me.”

▪ “You’re finally putting my typewriter to good use, then,” she said. “I take it you’re writing to Daisy Winnow’s granddaughter?”

▪ “You’re finally putting my typewriter to good use, then,” she said. “I take it you’re writing to Daisy Winnow’s granddaughter?”
Roman hesitated but conceded to nod. “How did you know?”
“A mere hunch,” she replied. “Considering that Daisy and I were both determined to keep our typewriters in the family rather than surrender them to that pitiful excuse of a museum.”

▪ “I’ve seen endless things throughout my life, and I can tell you right now that this world is about to change. The days to come will only grow darker. And when you find something good? You hold on to it. You don’t waste time worrying about things that won’t even matter in the end. Rather, you take a risk for that light. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

▪ iris: transitive verb: to make iridescent.

▪ Damn, he was proud of her.

▪ Damn, he was proud of her.
There was no possible way this paper was going into the rubbish bin. Roman carefully folded it, hiding it in his jacket. As he hurried back to the Gazette, he couldn’t think of anything else save for Iris and her words.

▪ Keep writing. You will find the words you need to share. They are already within you, even in the shadows, hiding like jewels.

▪ She would know that handsome face anywhere.
It was Roman Confounded Kitt.

▪ ant to hurry into town. You shouldn’t have risked yourself for me, running into the open like that.”
“They would have dropped a bomb on you, Kitt. It would have most likely leveled the town.”

▪ “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Iris Winnow!” she cried. “Or else I’ll kill you myself, do you hear me?”

▪ “I beg to disagree. You were like wildfire in the field yesterday afternoon.”

▪ Roman gently removed her helmet. He caressed her hair; it was matted and gross and she longed for a proper shower and yet his touch was comforting.

▪ “If you die in this trench,” Iris said, “then I die with you. Do you understand? If you choose to simply sit here, I’ll have no choice but to drag you until Dacre arrives. Now, come on.”

▪ “There you are!” Marisol cried, and Iris worried she was in trouble until she realized that that Marisol was crying. Tears shone on her cheeks. “My gods, I have been praying every day for you!”

▪ “When’s the last time you ate, Iris?” Marisol asked, tenderly wiping her tears away. “Come, I’m taking you home and feeding you. And then you can take a shower and rest.”
She reached for Attie’s hand, holding both girls close.
Marisol led them home.

▪ Roman Kitt was Carver.

▪ “The C is for Carver,” Roman said, leaning closer to her. “My name is Roman Carver Kitt.”

▪ He wove his fingers into her hair and brought his mouth down to hers. Iris felt the shock ripple through her the moment their lips met. His kiss was hungry, as if he had longed to taste her for some time, and at first she couldn’t breathe. But then the shock melted, and she felt a thrill warm her blood.
She opened her mouth against his, returning the kiss. She felt him shiver as her hands raced up his arms, clinging to him. When he shifted their bodies, Iris sensed they were falling and she was utterly helpless to it until she felt the wall at her back. Roman pressed against her, his lean body blazing as if he had caught fire. His heat seeped into her skin, settled into her bones, and she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her.
Roman cradled her face in his hands. Yes, he had wanted her for a long time. She could feel it in the way he touched her, in the way his lips claimed hers. As if he had endlessly imagined this moment happening.
Iris hardly knew the hour or the day or where they stood. They were both caught in a storm of their own making and she didn’t know what would happen when it broke. She only knew that something ached within her chest. Something that Roman must need, because his mouth and his breath and his caresses were trying to draw it from her.

▪ I am so afraid. And yet how I long to be vulnerable and brave when it comes to my own heart.

▪ “Iris Elizabeth Winnow,” Roman echoed, and she shivered to hear her name in his mouth.

▪ “I don’t really care to write about the war,” he said. “Of course, I’ll do it because the Inkridden Tribune is paying me to, but I would much rather that your articles live on the front page. I would much rather read what you write. Even if they aren’t letters to me.” He paused, rolling his lips together as if he was uncertain. “That first day you were gone. My first day as columnist. It was horrible. I realized I was becoming someone I didn’t want to be, and it woke me up, to see your desk empty. My father has had my life planned for me, ever since I could remember. It was my ‘duty’ to follow his will, and I tried to adhere to it, even if it was killing me. Even if it meant I couldn’t buy your sandwich at lunch, which I still think about to this day and despise myself for.”

▪ “I don’t really care to write about the war,” he said. “Of course, I’ll do it because the Inkridden Tribune is paying me to, but I would much rather that your articles live on the front page. I would much rather read what you write. Even if they aren’t letters to me.” He paused, rolling his lips together as if he was uncertain. “That first day you were gone. My first day as columnist. It was horrible. I realized I was becoming someone I didn’t want to be, and it woke me up, to see your desk empty. My father has had my life planned for me, ever since I could remember. It was my ‘duty’ to follow his will, and I tried to adhere to it, even if it was killing me. Even if it meant I couldn’t buy your sandwich at lunch, which I still think about to this day and despise myself for.”
“Kitt,” Iris whispered. She tightened her hold on his hand.
“But the moment you walked away,” Roman rushed on, “I knew I felt something for you, which I had been denying for weeks. The moment you wrote me and said you were six hundred kilometers away from Oath … I thought my heart had stopped. To know that you would still want to write to me, but also that you were so far away. And as our letters progressed, I finally acknowledged that I was in love with you, and I wanted you to know who I was. That’s when I decided I would follow you. I didn’t want the life my father had planned for me—a life where I could never be with you.”

▪ “Marry me, Iris Elizabeth Winnow,” Roman whispered, drawing back to look at her. “I want to spend all my days and all my nights with you. Marry me.”

▪ “Marry me, Iris Elizabeth Winnow,” Roman whispered, drawing back to look at her. “I want to spend all my days and all my nights with you. Marry me.”
Iris, heart full of fire, framed his face with her hands. She had never been this close to someone, but she felt safe with Roman. And she had not felt such safety in a long time.
“Iris … Iris, say something,” he begged.
“Yes, I’ll marry you, Roman Carver Kitt.”

▪ “Marry me, Iris Elizabeth Winnow,” Roman whispered, drawing back to look at her. “I want to spend all my days and all my nights with you. Marry me.”
Iris, heart full of fire, framed his face with her hands. She had never been this close to someone, but she felt safe with Roman. And she had not felt such safety in a long time.
“Iris … Iris, say something,” he begged.
“Yes, I’ll marry you, Roman Carver Kitt.”
Roman’s confidence returned, a flicker of a smile. She watched it in his eyes, like stars burning at eventide; she felt it in his body as the tension melted. He wove his fingers into her long, unruly hair and said, “I thought you’d never say yes, Winnow.”

▪ “But if that’s something you’re not ready for, then we can wait.”

▪ “But if that’s something you’re not ready for, then we can wait.”
She could hardly speak as she caressed his face. “I don’t want to wait. I want to experience this with you.”
She leaned down to kiss him again.

▪ She began to write, and the words felt slow and thick at first. But she fell into a rhythm with Roman, and soon her keys were rising and falling, the accompaniment to his, as if they were creating a metallic song together.
She caught him smiling a few times, as if he had been waiting to hear her words strike.

▪ “Iris,” said Roman, “you are worthy of love. You are worthy to feel joy right now, even in the darkness.

▪ “No,” Iris said, standing. Her gaze was on the garden, on the breeze that raked over it. “No, this is the evacuate siren.”

▪ “I came here for you, Iris,” Roman said. “If you stay behind, then so will I. I’m not leaving you.”

▪ Attie smiled, tugging on her hand. “I’m telling you that Roman Carver Kitt is in the garden, waiting to marry you.”

▪ “I pray that my days will be long at your side. Let me fill and satisfy every longing in your soul. May your hand be in mine, by sun and by night. Let our breaths twine and our blood become one, until our bones return to dust. Even then, may I find your soul still sworn to mine.”

▪ Dacre has been spotted. It’s time to retreat. It’s the beginning of the end.

▪ “Tomorrow,” Roman said, lacing his fingers with hers, “I want your hand to be in mine, no matter what comes. Just like this. We have to stay together, Iris.”

▪ She didn’t even remember ripping her fingers from Roman’s. Not until he knelt behind her on the kitchen floor and drew her into his arms, holding her back against his chest.

▪ She didn’t even remember ripping her fingers from Roman’s. Not until he knelt behind her on the kitchen floor and drew her into his arms, holding her back against his chest.
He was saying something to her. His voice was low but soothing in her ear. “We’ll get through this. Breathe, Iris. I’m here and we’ll get through this. Breathe.”

▪ She felt his hand tighten on hers, and she looked up to what remained.
The hill had been bombed.

▪ She held his steady gaze, waiting for the bomb to hit the ground between them.

▪ “Iris!” Roman shouted, tripping over the rubble to close the gap between them. “Iris, take my hand!”

▪ He took her hand. His grip was tight again, almost punishingly so, as his fingers wove with hers. I want your hand to be in mine, no matter what comes.

▪ “Stop fighting me!” he demanded. But he must have seen the fear that was shining within her, because his voice gentled. “Stop fighting me, Little Flower.”

▪ “Stop fighting me!” he demanded. But he must have seen the fear that was shining within her, because his voice gentled. “Stop fighting me, Little Flower.”
Her world cracked in two.
And yet … hadn’t she hoped for this?
She found his name, hidden deep in her heart. A name that burned her throat. “Forest?”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it’s me. And I’m here to keep you safe. So stop fighting me and come on.” His hand found hers again, lacing their fingers. He tugged, expecting her to willingly follow him now.

▪ “I can’t leave him,” she panted. “He’s my husband! I can’t leave him. Forest, let me go. Let me go!”

▪ “Forest,” Iris whispered. “Why? Why Dacre?”

▪ Iris! Iris, it’s me, Kitt.

A Thousand Boy Kisses by Tillie Cole

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emotional hopeful sad fast-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? No
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

▪ For believers in true, epic, soul-shattering love.
This one’s for you.

▪ “I’ll give you a thousand kisses, Poppymin. All of them. No one will kiss you ever, but me.”

▪ “Mamaw also said that the best things in life die quickly, like the cherry blossom. Because something so beautiful can never last forever, shouldn’t last forever. It stays for a brief moment in time to remind us how precious life is, before fading away just as quickly as it came. She said that it teaches you more in its short life than anything that is forever by your side.”

▪ “Because nothing so perfect can last an eternity, can it? Like shooting stars. We see the usual stars above us every single night. Most people take them for granted, even forget they are there. But if a person sees a shooting star, they remember that moment forever, they even make a wish at its presence.”

▪ “It shoots by so quickly that people savor the short time they have with it.”

▪ “Because something so completely perfect and special is destined to fade. Eventually, it has to blow away into the wind.”

▪ “Maybe we’re like the cherry blossom, Rune. Like shooting stars. Maybe we loved too much too young and burned so bright that we had to fade out.”

▪ “Extreme beauty, quick death. We had this love long enough to teach us a lesson. To show us how capable of love we truly are.”

▪ “We’re not done,”

▪ “For infinity, Poppymin. Forever always. Never done. You can’t think like that. Not with us.”

▪ “Do you promise me, Rune? Because I still have hundreds of boy-kisses that I need you to give me.”

▪ “Always. And I’ll give you more than a thousand. I’ll give you two, or three, or even four.”

▪ “Kiss number three hundred and fifty-four. With my Rune, in the blossom grove … and my heart almost burst.”

▪ “It won’t be forever, Rune. After a while, it’ll get easier. You’ll meet someone else eventually. You’ll move on—

▪ “Don’t you ever say anything like that again! I won’t move on from Poppy. I love her! Don’t you get that? She’s my everything and you’re ripping us apart.”

▪ “I’m so sorry, son. I do know how much Poppy means to you. I tried to leave telling you until now to spare you weeks of hurt. It clearly didn’t help. But this is real life, and it’s my job. You’ll understand one day.”

▪ I captured this rare moment: the exact moment when someone’s heart broke.

▪ He’s coming back.

▪ He was here.

▪ It was my Rune.

▪ It was clear that Rune had broken that promise.

▪ My worst fears had been realized: the boy I knew had gone.

▪ He looked tired.
He looked heartbroken.
He looked like he missed his son.

▪ Then I cried.
I cried for the boy who was my sun.
I mourned the boy I once loved with everything I had.
I mourned Poppy and Rune—a couple of extreme beauty and even quicker death.

▪ “But now he doesn’t have me,” I finished for her. “Now he’s free to be with whomever he wants.”

▪ His head tipped forward, and he pressed his forehead to mine, bringing his fingers down to press over my lips.
I breathed.
He breathed.

▪ “You made me like this, Poppy. The Rune you knew died when you turned into a bitch and broke every promise you ever made.”

▪ “I have Hodgkin lymphoma. It’s advanced. And it’s terminal.”

▪ Where I broke my heart for the heart I’d just broken.
The one I’d always strived to save.

▪ And as I walked, I felt like an imposter in my own body.

▪ So I let it all out. I gripped on to her so tight I thought it would leave a bruise. But my mamma never moved; she cried with me.

▪ Most were blank. The jar was coated in dust—a sign it hadn’t been opened for a long time.

▪ “I can’t lose you, Poppymin. I can’t. I can’t let you go. I can’t live without you. You’re my forever always. You’re meant to walk beside me through this life. You need me and I need you. That’s all there is to it.”

▪ “I won’t be able to let you go. Because wherever you go, I have to go too. I’ve tried living without you, it doesn’t work.”

▪ “I can’t take you with me where I’m going.”

▪ His perfectly captured moment in time.
His perfect second. Love in still life.

▪ A tear fell from my eyes as I held onto that image. The image that could never be us.

▪ “This life’s final adventure. Because I know, with unwavering faith, that we’ll be together again. Even when this adventure is over, a greater one awaits us on the other side. And Rune, there would be no heaven if you weren’t back in my arms someday.”

▪ “Because without you, I didn’t see the world the same way anymore. Nothing was the same. I know we were only young, but without you, nothing made sense. I was angry. I was drowning. So I gave up my passion because the passion within me had died out.”

▪ And he did.
He had me.
Just like I had him.

▪ “Listen, Rune,” she said, and she closed her eyes. I did too. And I heard it. I heard it as loudly as if it were next to my ear. The steady beats, the rhythm of us. “When you’re near, my heart doesn’t sigh, it soars,” she whispered, as if she didn’t want to disturb the sound. “I think hearts beat a rhythm like a song. I think, that just like music, we’re drawn to a particular melody. I heard your heart’s song, and yours heard mine.”

▪ “I have come to understand that death, for the sick, is not so hard to endure. For us, eventually, our pain ends, we go to a better place. But for those left behind, their pain only magnifies.”

▪ “I really believe that tales of loss don’t always have to be sad or sorrowful. I want mine to be remembered as a great adventure that I tried to live as best as I possibly could. Because how dare we waste a single breath? How dare we waste something so precious? Instead, we should strive for all those precious breaths to be taken in as many precious moments as we can squeeze into this short time on Earth. That’s the message I want to leave behind. And what a beautiful legacy to leave for those I love.”

▪ “Though you weren’t with me, you were in my heart. And that was enough to sustain me, even though I wasn’t happy.” I kissed Rune’s mouth, just to savor his taste. “But now, after this time back together, it’s made me fearful. Because who are we without each other?”

▪ “I’ve hurt you by loving you so much. And now I have to go on an adventure without you. And I can’t bear how much it hurts you. I can’t leave you so lonely and in pain.”

▪ “My heaven will be you and me in the blossom grove. Like always. Forever seventeen.”

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