Reyna's hair shines in the sun. I can see that, even from this distance. She's taller than me. And older than me. But I think I like her.
And then I realise that I've fired on New Rome and we're chased out by an angry mob. Reyna looks furious. But she looks hot when she's mad; the crease in her forehead, her dark eyes narrowed—I've always like bad girls (and been slapped enough times to prove it).
And then I get to know her. She's smart and funny (but not as funny as me, am I right?) And she tells me how she was in love with Jason and she wants to get over him. I almost tell her then but I don't because I am a coward.
And then Reyna dies. I watch it from a battlefield away. The giant thrusts the javelin all the way through her. And then Reyna was.
Death isn't great, or beautiful. It's just the shift from the present to the past tense. From Reyna is smart and funny to was smart and funny. From I should tell her to I should have told her.
From I think I like her to I definitely loved her.