The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory, #5)

by Rebecca Yarros

This used to be a jar or a glass of some kind. All I know for certain is that it shattered at some point. It broke apart, then spent years in the waves and sand until it became something entirely new. No longer clear and sharp, but soft and opaque. When I saw this piece, it reminded me of you—beautiful, resilient, and unique. I don’t mourn what it used to be in its former life, because it’s precious to me exactly how it is now. I can’t imagine it ever having been more beautiful—even whole—but I also know that at the center, it’s still the same clear glass it always has been. The same glass, just made rare—not despite all its been through, but because of it.

“I’m going to tell you how I feel until you choose the hell that rips us apart, and even then, I’ll probably still tell you. What I feel for you isn’t quiet. It’s loud and inconvenient and demands to be said as often as possible.”

Somewhere in the last five months, my existence had shifted. My center of gravity had moved. He was my reality of everything. Jackson.