A lot can happen to a person's appearance in three months.

Human reason can excuse any evil; that is why it's so important that we don't rely on it.

I am fed up. I am fed up with tears and weakness. But there isn't much I can do to stop them.

Four sits down on the edge of the carousel, leaning against a plastic horse's foot. His eyes lift to the sky, where there are no stars, only a round moon peking through a thin layer of clouds. The muscles in his arms are relaxed; his hand rests on the back of his neck. He looks almost comfortable, holding that gun to his shoulder. I close my eyes briefly. Why does he distract me so easily? I need to focus.

In that moment I know exactly what I want; I want to peel away all the layers of clothing between us, strip away everything that separates us, the past and the present and the future.

Before we sit down, he puts his mouth next to my ear and says, “I like your hair that way.

I look up, and stop breathing. Eyes glitter in the darkness. Dark shapes sit in the car, more numerous than we are. The factionless.