Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging up your back and runing its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do-the only thing-is run.

This is what we are made for: promises, pledges, and sworn oaths of obedience.

He who leaps for the sky may fall, it's true. But he may also fly.

The hours here are flat and round, disks of gray layered one on top of the other...they move slowly, at a grind, until it seems as though they are not moving at all. They are just pressing down.

You can build walls all the way to the sky and I will find a way to fly above them.

And I have Julian. I found him, and he followed me. I reach out in the half dark, wordlessly, and find his hands. We interlace our fingers, and though he doesn't say anything either, I can feel the warmth and energy passing between us, a soundless dialogue. Thank you, he is saying, and I am saying, I am so happy, I am so happy, I needed you to be safe.

My stomach gets that hollowed-out feeling. It's amazing how words can do that, just shred your insides apart.