“It’s not that I don’t want to explain. But it’s impossible. Like if I wanted to explain how the ocean works? I could talk all night and you wouldn’t understand,” she said. “No offense.”

“The sun was red when he closed his eyes. He told himself they would travel towards the sun.”

“I stopped at the edge of the road where the pavement met a wall of green.”

“It was bliss. It was blistering—slacking through the heavens at breakneck speeds with January Sutcliffe—and I was new to all of it.”

“I stepped to my right, attempting to hide the wilted plant on the reception desk, which appeared to be on its last moment of photosynthesis. I could relate.”

“What else could still exist here but ourselves? the seamstress sometimes wondered, as her mind wandered slumped in her bed at the dead end of another day.”

“It’s said that the ground is solid. You could call it a safe bet.”

It all begins with an idea.