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"How do you feel?" Josh asks one day.

"Who are you, Dr. Paulson?"

Josh rolls his eyes. "Come on, Ty," he says, passing him his pocket knife. "Show me. In 'normal' words."

Tyler stares at the knife, warm and heavy in his palm, like silk on dewy grass.

"Show me," Josh repeats.

Tyler flips out the blade, pressing it to the wooden floor of their treehouse.

"'Normal' words," he whispers to himself, trying to recall one for how he feels.

T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D

"Terrified," Josh reads. "Why?"

Tyler shrugs, wiping the wood shavings off the knife before flicking it closed and handing it back to Josh.

"I don't know. Always am," he says.

"Why?" Josh repeats. "Of what?"

Tyler shrugs again. "Of what's next, I guess," he says.

Josh frowns. "That's nothing to be scared of," he says.

"Why am I scared, then?"

Josh smiles in that small, gentle way of his. "Orange-green-purple," he says.

Tyler sighs, tracing his thumb over the carving in the wooden board.

"I'm not," he murmurs. "Not really."

"You are," Josh says. "Like stretched orange cotton. Not knowing what's around the corner is one of the best things ever."

"Terrifying," Tyler says, shaking his head.

"Maybe a little," Josh allows. "But maybe what's around the corner is the best thing you could possibly imagine."

"What if it's not, though?"

"What if it is?"

"What if it isn't?"

Josh leans forward, taking Tyler's fingers away from the carving in the wood.

"But what if it is?" he whispers.

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