“If you really want something, baby, the stars won’t help you. you have to reach out and take it.”

“Wordlessly we turn side to side, our shoulders pressed together, the wind lacing around us, both of us staring into the light-swept black feeling small and big all at once.”

“‘You’re a little baby bisexual.’ … And I knew that the word fit me. It felt right. Not as a label, really, but more as a way to simply understand myself.”

“When mum looks at me – really looks at me – I always get the feeling she’s looking at a ghost. And maybe, if Dad were still here, I’d be flesh and blood to her instead of a memory. I’d just be her daughter.”

“Life with mum has never been a matter of want. It can’t be. It’s a tangle of needs and necessity, pay check to pay check, the future like a distant city on a map in the middle of some foreign land. All those wishes pressed into my fingertips were just that – wishes. And no one really expects a wish to come true. Do they?”

“This. This is what I want. I lift one hand into the sky, the other still holding on to Eva. The last fireworks frizzle in between my spread fingers, the purple nails bright against the last bits of gold, like wishes come to life.”

 

 

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