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Rachel had never spent more than a few months in any one place growing up. Willa had lived here almost her whole life. She inherently understood the mysterious social dynamics of Walls of Water; she just didn’t know how to explain them to people who didn’t.
This was a sign, she thought. Though of what, she had no idea. It was just what her grandmother would say when something unexpected happened, usually accompanied by instructions to knock three times and turn in a circle, or put chestnuts and pennies on the windowsill.
She drove home, following the flickering lights of lampposts as they popped on, like drowsy fireflies leading her way.
Any sound that might have been forming in her throat disappeared. When she opened her mouth, all that came out was breath filled with dissolved words.
It was just a matter of time now before it was all going to come to light. Secrets never stay buried, no matter how hard you try.
The rolling mountains looked like kids playing under a big green blanket.
She didn’t exactly miss being that age—she’d been a college dropout and drank too much and partied too hard—but she did miss that sense of living in the moment, of living only to feel.
He was a skinny man but had a large belly. His tie sat on his stomach like a pet.
every life needing a little space, and how that leaves room for good things to enter
“Happiness is a risk. If you’re not a little scared, then you’re not doing it right.”
Fate never promises to tell you everything up front. You aren’t always shown the path in life you’re supposed to take. But if there was one thing she’d learned in the past few weeks, it was that sometimes, when you’re really lucky, you meet someone with a map.
