“I want you to remember me . . . not as a sick black girl with chicken legs from some no-name suburbs. I want you to remember me like this, right now. The moonlight over your shoulder, stretching against the night, the stars fluttering. Remember me like this. The rain slanting, the fog rolling. The street-lights flickering on. Every time you feel or see another evening like this, I want you to think of me smiling, laughing at you. Remember me, remember us, as a time of day.”
