"There's no goodbye for you and me," she announced. "So you can just cut that shit out right now. I am very aware of what you're doing, checking in with the people in this household, going around, seeing them one by one or in groups. And that's fine. But you're not going to do it to me because I refuse to believe you're going to die from that thing." When he lifted his hands to start signing, she slapped them down and shoved her forefinger in his face. "I am going to fight for you. I don't know what I have to do or where we have to go, but that"--she jabbed her finger in the direction of the wound--"is not getting in our way. It is not ending us. And you need to get on board my fucking optimism train, John Matthew. I love you. You love me. We are survivors. Do you hear me!"