This is when you'll fall into orbit. You have fallen so many times that you've grown used to it. Chaos is a part of your being, as natural as the hair on your head and the lashes that frame your eyes—weighted with sleep and heavy with horrors they cannot unsee. Your days are long: you rise with the sun and rise again with the moon.
The next fall will be inevitable but you won't care, because for you, up is the only way forward. Up is the only way to avoid another plummet. Stars will align at your will and sparkle when you wish for the impossible. Wishbones, candles and dandelions will do their job. Time will freeze at 11:11 so you can wish for her again.
This is when you'll be drawn to a sun so bright that you won't believe you're falling for someone and not down another rabbit hole. This fall will be different. Quicker, shorter, brisker.
