When the Sky Fell on Splendor

by Emily Henry

Things would be different, I knew, but if there were two subjects I did my best not to think about, they were: a) the past and b) the future.

We just stood, listening to the conversation of the blissfully untroubled cicadas. They lived, they sang, they died. That was pretty much how it was for us too, so why did it seem so much harder than that?

Sometimes the anger was too much. Sometimes I thought that if you peeled back my skin, that would be all that was there: a burning red hate for this world and what it did to people callously, every second, every day.