Be true to yourself. But that's something everyone says and no one means. No one wants you to be yourself. They want you to be the version of yourself that they like.

Day appears again. This time he leans in close enough for his hair to brush, light as silk, against my cheeks. He pulls me towards for a long kiss. The scene vanishes, replaced abruptly by a stormy night and Day struggling through the rain, blood dripping from his leg and leaving a trail behind him. He collapses onto his knees in front of Razor before the whole scene disappears again.

I've always been interested in exploring the concept of child prodigies. When I was younger, I wrote a story about Mozart as a child and I just always loved this idea of young people who are able to take control of their lives and bring a whole lot of change at such a young age.

You know, sometimes I wonder what things would be like if I just ... met you one day. Like normal people do. If I just walked by you on some street one sunny morning and thought you were cute, stopped, shook your hand, and said, "Hi, I'm Daniel.

He loves so wholly. It is his nature. He blinks, then tries to find the right response. "I-" he stumbles. "I'm so afraid, June. So afraid of what might happen to-" I put two fingers against his lips to hush him. "Fear makes you stronger," I whisper. Before I can stop myself, I put my hands on his face and press my mouth to his.

Everything I am familiar with is gone.

It hurts every day, the absence of someone who was once there.