We’d been tossed together because of bad fucking luck. By all rights, we should have collapsed. It started with the little things. Each day seemed to shape us, minutes and moments that snapped us into new configurations, all our complicated cracked edges overlaid. We found each other’s gaps and broken spaces and filled them in, and we came together like a kaleidoscope forming shimmering fractals out of piles of nothing. Every time you looked at us, we were different.
