I do not like sitting idly by when something clearly isn't right. I feel... not trapped but something like it, and I don't know what to about.

And there are never really endings, happy or otherwise. Things keep going on, they overlap and blur, your story is part of your sister's story is part of many other stories, and there is no telling where any of them may lead.

They are enthusiasts, devotees. Addicts. Something about the circus stirs their souls, and they ache for it when it is absent. They seek each other out, these people of such specific like mind. They tell of how they found the circus, how those first few steps were like magic. Like stepping into a fairy tale under a curtain of stars… When they depart, they shake hands and embrace like old friends, even if they have only just met, and as they go their separate ways they feel less alone than they had before.

I’ve missed you,” he whispers softly. The air between them is electric as he leans in, gently brushing his lips against her neck. In the next room, the guests complain about the sudden increase in temperature. Fans are drawn from colorful bags, fluttering like tropical birds.

"I am already married," she remarks to the empty air, twisting the ring on her right hand that covers an sold, distinctive scar.

How are you managing to keep everyone from aging?” Celia asks after a while. “Very carefully,” Marco answers.

The most difficult thing to read is time. Maybe because it changes so many things.