There was so much you didn’t get to choose. The hard way was going to be very hard. It would be a long, long time before I felt safe and warm again. But I would be free, and I would be myself. Show me those fucking pomegranate seeds, I thought. Come on. I’ll eat every last one of them. The last line of the poem came back to me—Mr. Jenner never had a chance to read it, but I remembered it anyway: Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.
