The language of solace, and comets, and the girls we all become, in the end.

It's hard to be nice when the rest of the world is so mean.

I knew, in the silence that followed, that anything could happen here. It might be too late: again, I might have missed my chance. But I would at least know I tried, that I took my heart and extended my hand, whatever the outcome. "Okay," he said. He took a breath. "What would you do, if you could do anything?" I took a step toward him, closing the space between us. "This," I said. And then I kissed him.

I trailed off and he didn't push me to finish. I was finding that I liked that.

It took a lot of work to be perfect.

We all have one idea of what the color blue is, but pressed to describe it specifically, there are so many ways: the ocean, lapis lazuli, the sky, someone's eyes. Our definitions are as different as we are ourselves.

If he'd been any other boy, and this was any other world, I would have kissed him. Nothing could have stopped me.