“Not in my eyes. I mean, I used to call you that purely because I knew it pissed you off . . . and I’m sorry.” He reaches up and brushes a thumb over my cheek. “But I don’t think of it as reflective of being weak. A snowflake is a thing of beauty. An infinitely unique pattern. It melts, yes, but that depends on its circumstances. When it transforms into water, you and I both know, that’s one of nature’s most powerful forces. Able to flow and bend and fucking move mountains. A life-giving substance.”
