The Upside of Falling Down

by Rebekah Crane

The more I search, the more lost I get in darkness. Crying isn’t even the solution. What am I crying for? Who am I crying for? As far as I’m concerned, what’s lost never existed in the first place.

It’s unnerving how much control I want and how little I actually have. Living in a state of chaos only makes a person want to hold on tighter.

For a while, I sit on a bench and watch the tourists in tennis shoes with rain jackets tied around their waists and cameras in their hands—all ready to casually capture the next memory, with no regard to how special that is. Each moment passes without much notice from anyone—a laugh, a kiss, a hug—each so easily etched in his or her mind. Not so easy for me.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Jane Austen,” Clive says, “it’s that if we told the truth all the time, there would be no stories worth telling.”

“Everyone’s staring at us.” “No, love. Everyone is staring at you. Come on. We need a drink.”