She'd always started and ended in my lungs. I could taste her in the air and I'd breathe her in. And as she coursed through my veins, she set every cell of my body on fire. I burned for her. And it hurt so damn much, but it never bled. Instead, my insides were scorched and rubbed raw. And when I would release that painful, shuddering breath, I would pray that I could inhale her once more. Not because I enjoyed the pain, but because I could feel her passion, her burning need to help everyone, fix everything. I could feel her passion and almost forget for a moment that she was mine.