“It’s almost like when I die and you have my heart, I’ll live on through you,” I say. “A new, beautiful life.” My chest feels tight as Orion and I stare into each other’s eyes. “Totally,” he says, breaking contact, and I look away too. “I’ll become a walking park.” “What you lack in history, Orion, you make up for in metaphors.” “I’m a writer. I better get that shit right.”
