“He must think about it,” I said. “He must because I know I do. I’ve seen myself walking to that chair, more than once. I’ve woken up at night, sweating.”
“I don't know when I’m going to die, Jefferson. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe today. That’s why I try to live as well as I can every day and not hurt people. Especially people who love me[.]”
“I’m not doing any good up there, Vivian,” I said. “Nothing is changing.” “Something is,” she said.