a way no one could question, a boy. He wanted to be able to hang his moons in the trees without having his name stripped down to Moon. He wanted to remember if he’d asked to be called Sam or if his mother had decided this was his nickname, if she worried that Samir was a name that would, to everyone else, make him even more different than he already was. He wanted to know if Miel had chosen him, or if she’d just fallen into the familiar rhythm of their nights outside because he was the first one to be unafraid of her. He wanted not to want the girl whose attachment to him had been so tenuous
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