He wants to be that someone. As if he even knows what that means.

Where to begin.
Where to end.

When I jumped into the empty pool, somehow, I thought I would land on my feet. That if I took that flying leap, closed my eyes, that it would be the most delicate, graceful thing I had ever done. White concrete blue markings long legs warm air toe touch stick the landing. Contrary to popular belief, I was not trying to kill myself. I wanted to fly. I wanted to fall. I’m not sure what I wanted.

Truth? I was high as a kite.

More truth? Humans can’t fly. But they can break.

Maybe that’s the story to start with. But maybe it’s not, and the words aren’t coming. All I can do is crawl across the bed, reach down to find my soaking wet shoe, the same one he’d been wondering about earlier. I hold it out like an offering, letting it drip on the comforter.

He takes it gingerly. “Who wrote that?”

Even more truth? I’m not the only breakable one. I’m not the only one who can jump – or who can fall.

“My sister.”