And with the warmth of that touch, all the possibilities of the world tumbled and strained and broke open, and Cecily’s tears flowed freely and were a relief and a joy, because in this moment she finally knew what it meant to be a human girl—not a performer, not an orphan, not someone trying desperately to prove her worth. She was just a human girl, full of frailty and doubt and hope and striving, and if all the forces of this same world would be stacked against her soon, she didn’t care; just right now, she didn’t care at all.
