I might not remember how the sky looked on any given day. I do remember, though, what it was like to be a boy beneath a sky.

There was no one alive who did not contribute his share of mystery to the world.

Dreaming was easier than screaming, and screaming was easier than worrying, and worrying was easier than crying, which was what she knew she would be reduced to if she didn’t keep a hard eye on herself.

I was wholly invested in my friendships. I might have tested them sometimes, but only to reassure myself that they were permanent. A mistake, of course.

I had always been the kind of boy who was quick to laugh and quick to cry.

Sometimes you imagine that everything could have been different for you, that if only you had gone right one day when you chose to go left, you would be living a life you could never have anticipated. But at other times you think there was no other way forward--that you were always bound to end up exactly where you have.

I might not remember how the sky looked on any given day. I do remember, though, what it was like to be a boy beneath a sky.