Instead, they treat her like a rare butterfly, accepting these moments when she is amongst them and appears, however briefly, to dazzle. Gordon once told her a butterfly’s average lifespan is twenty-nine days. She wonders, when she adds up these moments where she exists out in the world, if her lifespan will be any longer. And which would be better? To have those days boiled down into one intense burst of color, or to have the pin removed from the thorax every now and then, dusty wings fluttering back to life, a little more time eked out before being locked away again?
