How High We Go in the Dark

by Sequoia Nagamatsu

My engineer father once told me that marriage and who you fall in love with are largely a matter of chance, chemicals, and how far you’re willing to drive.

the postapocalypse doesn’t mean we stop dancing.

I orbited my family and all of you like a distant planet—there and yet nearly impossible to reach.

He wonders what proportion of happy moments to sad ones is necessary for a person to sincerely want to keep living