All the Little Lights

by Jamie McGuire

I didn’t get what I asked for very often, so the camera in my hands was more than a gift. It meant someone was listening.

maybe she was saying one last goodbye.

“He always promises. It’s the keeping it when he’s mad that’s the problem.”

“It’s not hard not to put your hands on a girl. If you can’t, then just stay away. Tell him that.”

The sky was splotched in pinks and purples, and the sprinklers hissed and sprayed our yard, but the war didn’t seem like it would end anytime soon.

people can only make us angry if we let them, and if we let them, we give them power.”

“That you either get good at rising above and meeting ignorance with education, or you get really good at being bitter.”

“You know why you’ll never outgrow the need to make others feel like shit so you can feel better, Presley?”

He was different—more than just odd—but he had found me. And for the moment, I liked not feeling lost.

“No, it’s just . . . that’s like the setting sun wishing it wasn’t so beautiful.”

I stretched my toes toward the sky, remembering that same exhilarating feeling as when I was little.

“I’m going to travel with my camera. Take pictures of the earth and sky and everything in-between.

“Falling is easy. The hard part is getting back up.

You are in control of your emotions. You’re in control of your reaction. You can, at any time, change the way you feel.

I was wondering if she was dreaming about freedom or glad the glass was separating her from the hateful world outside.

“Maybe you’re not perfect. Maybe that’s okay.”

And in that moment, the pain and anger I’d held on to instead disappeared.

made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t since the day he’d left, like I wasn’t trying to survive alone.

“To where?” “Wherever you want. Anywhere.” “That sounds . . . free.” “We will be,”

She was happy, and all I wanted to do was sit back and watch her enjoy the moment.

every time I’m close to you, I’m aware of every breath you take. When we’re not, everything reminds me of you. I know because nothing else matters.”

The streetlamps had been neglected and were slowly going out one at a time, but the millions of stars above would always be there: mysterious, silent witnesses, just like the guests of the Juniper.

Nothing was safe anymore. Maybe nothing ever was.

His words felt like a sunrise, a sunset, a beautiful dream, waking from a nightmare. It was every wonderful moment balled into one.