Maybe, the hope said. Maybe.

The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow? And the word was: Yes.

...the past: It drifts, it gathers. If you are not careful, it will bury you. This is half the reason for the cure: It clean-sweeps; it makes the past, and all its pain, distant, like the barest impression on sparkling glass.

But if you do believe, then you already know all about magic.

anything, anything is possible, if you can just see the sky.

What glitters may not be gold; and even wolves may smile; and fools will be led by promises to their deaths.

And this, really, is the story-within-the-story, because if you do not believe that hearts can bloom suddenly bigger, and that love can open like a flower out of even the hardest places, then I am afraid that for you the world will be long and brown and barren, and you will have trouble finding the light. But if you do believe, then you already know all about magic.