A future as lonely as the surface of the moon and still just the sight of him feels like a homecoming, like a song I used to know but forgot.

Hey, stranger," he says as I climb into the passenger seat, in a voice like I'm not one at all.

Nothing about you, my dear, has ever been lost on me.

The hideous thing is this: I want to forgive him. Even after everything, I do. A baby before my 17th birthday and a future as lonely as the surface of the moon and still the sight of him feels like a homecoming, like a song I used to know but somehow forgot.

"Hey, Sawyer?" "Yeah? What’s up?" "I love you, you know that?" "I-…I do know that, actually. But- Jesus, Reena.” He laughs a bit, disbelieving. “It’s nice to hear.” It’s nice to say, I want to tell him, then realize I’ve got a whole country to say it. I’ve got a whole continent. I’ve got the whole world.