Maybe you don't have to remember something for it to be true. For it to exist.

Janie blinks and leans against the wall, just in case. But it's no one's dream. It's just the end of some things. And the beginning of others.

That was the goth stage, where I decided I'd never get the girl of my dreams because of my scars. Not to mention my hairstyle. (pause) But then she slammed a door handle into my gut. And when a girl does that to a boy, it means she likes him.

Because there's no way on earth she's going to make it through college unless she grows some serious ovaries and turns this train wreck around

Janie calls Cabel. "Hi, uh, Mom," she says. Cabel snorts. "Hello, dear. Did you make it through the blizzard?" "Yeah. Barely." Janie grins into the phone.

And then they kiss. Slowly, gently. Because with the right person, sometimes kissing feels like healing.

Just stand. Bend. Balance.