“It’s gonna be okay,” she says. “I know it doesn’t feel like it’s gonna be okay, but it is.” “But what if it’s not?” I ask, burying my face in Handsome’s fur. He smells like pine and dog and wind. I feel Marcelina’s footsteps behind me, soft and patient in the grass. “Then you won’t be alone with it,” she says. “We’ll all be not-okay with you.”
