“She sat on the stoop alone, gazing up at an infinite sky as it held her and pushed her away all at once.”

“At a time when Parker might have craved the comfort of certainty, she instead held tight to her wavering thoughts; To the gravity and thrill of a new adventure; To the promise of everything and nothing all at once.”

“Love was something that sat comfortably in her dreams, so she never fully expected it to materialize.”

“Parker fixated on the envelope's precise penmanship as she lifted it. Her grandmother rarely took the time to write her own name in the return address, let alone give it the aesthetic attention that this one so seemed to demand. Once, when Parker questioned her on this, her grandmother casually asserted that she "didn't quite believe in envelopes" as if this were a debatable concept like Socialism or wearing white after Labor Day.”

“Eventually, as her grandmother’s sobs softened, she pulled her away and – looking deeply into the clouds of her grey eyes – lifted her and led her home for the last time.”

“Parker sat on the opposite end of the couch, distracted by thoughts of the coming year and all the secrets it kept from her.”

“She smiled, not because she felt confident that she could think of a solution, but for the gratitude that she wasn’t quite so alone in her pursuit.”