That was the thing about being alone, in theory or in principle. Whatever happened-good, bad, or anywhere in between-it was always, if nothing else, all your own.

I couldn't imagine what it would be like to be one of so many, to have not just parents and siblings but cousins and aunts and uncles, an entire tribe to claim as your own. Maybe you would feel lost in the crowd. Or sheltered by it. Whatever the case, one things was for sure: like it or not, you'd never be alone.

Sometimes, you get things right the first time. Others, the second. But the third time, they say, is the charm.

Like a blinking cursor on an empty page, it was just the first thing. The beginning of the beginning. But at least it was done.” “It was kind of soothing, these sounds of lives being lived all around me, for better or for worse. And there I was, in the middle of them all, newly reborn and still waiting for mine to begin.

I would miss Colby, but it wasn't going anywhere. All the more reason why I should.

Sometimes, you have to manufacture your own history. Give fate a push, so to speak.