That was life, wasn’t it? Making connections, bonding with people and places, then moving forward without them. Missing them. Carrying those influence around, sort of like layers of clothing. Her birthplace was one layer, her family another. Her best friend, Josephine. Antarctica. Now Boston. Sometimes it hurt to collect another layer, to make new friends and have new experiences when she still ached for the layers closest to her skin, but she would keep pursuing nights like this, because she’d made a promise to her sister.
