Nina LaCour

We take a last look out of the window at the night, and I send a silent wish to everyone out there for this kind of warmth.

We felt so small with the city lights stretching forever below us, and we yelled at the top of our lungs because we were just these small humans but we felt more longing than could ever fit inside us.

I can't muster a smile. Even with the knowledge that it's dark outside and light up here, it's hard to believe that he can see us. We should be invisible. We are so alone. Mabel and I are standing side by side, but we can't even see each other. In the distance are the lights of town. People must be finishing their workdays, picking up their kids, figuring out dinner. They're talking to one another in easy voices about things of great significance and things that don't mean much. The distance between us and all of that living feels insurmountable.

He wipes tears off my face and then snot. He uses his hands. He loves me that much.

There are still Ava Maddoxes to find and sets to create and girls to kiss and colleges to attend. It's possible that someday I will hear a patsy Cline song and the heartbreak will barely register. It will be some distant, buried feeling. I won't remember how much it once hurt.

I__l make a swing so I can reach the places I can__ reach yet.

This was me before I knew about anything hard, when my whole life was packed lunches and art projects and spelling quizzes.

I sleep through the next day. Each time I go to the bathroom, I try not to look in the mirror. Once, I catch my reflection: it looks like I__e been punched in both eyes.I can__ talk about the day that follows that.