“Being with you . . . is like holding water in my hands,” she murmured, and he furrowed his brow, still waiting. “I want you to stay here . . . with me . . . and I know you can’t. I know you won’t. I’m dying for a drink, and it’s like holding water in my hands,” she repeated, enunciating each word. “I’ll never get enough to quench my thirst.”
Amy Harmon, The First Girl Child (The Chronicles of Saylok)