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by Jennifer Hartmann

Life is like photography. You need the negatives to develop. —Ziad K. Abdelnour

“Hey. You’re⁠—” “Halley,” I provided, because there was probably no way he remembered my name like I remembered his. Then I waited for the residual anger to crease his brows and shadow his eyes. But all he did was nod once as snowflakes splashed across his navy hat. “Like the comet.”

“Confidence is like a muscle,” I told him. “It needs consistent exercise. The more you practice, the stronger it becomes. It’s not about eliminating self-doubt entirely—it’s about pushing through it.”

“Comet…look at me.”

“I wanted it. I wanted it more than I wanted air.”

“Every moment with you fucking hurts.” His voice was pure grit, words cracking and breaking. “Every moment without you…hurts so much more.”

“Falling for you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” I confessed through the anguish. “Everything else? Painful. Torturous. Difficult beyond belief. But loving you…” The anger died out, flatlining to a dead pulse. “Effortless.”