on boys and men and falling in love;

[golding]

Boys break hearts, while men steal hearts — that's the difference between the two.

Yes, age really is just a number. Enough with the questions now.

Comments

[pictured]

[ A little absently: ] Sometimes men break them, too.

[golding]

Never before they take them from you. That much I know well.

[pictured]

[ In a matter of instants, Stella's face falls. Her own losses, she doesn't mind — that's the way life is, Mother taught her that — but the losses of others still cut keenly under her skin. ]

Well, [ she repeats, like the word holds some particular significance. ]

How many times have you had your heart taken away?

[golding]

Once — and he never returned it.

[ She loves him. Had loved him. Will always love him. But he's left her, and with him he took her heart.

She loves him but she hates him too. ]

Boys would rather break things, I've found. Boys would be rash, and rough, and unmindful.

[pictured]

[ (She only hates those who hurt her siblings — the men who have left her over the years, she doesn't mind. They'd meant for the best, hadn't they?) ]

Some of my brothers are kind, [ she says, the words carried on her breath, one of her hands picking anxiously at the hem of her skirt. ] Even some of the younger ones. And some of my sisters are rash.

[ Still, she knows that's unhelpful. ]

I'm sorry, about your heart.

[golding]

[ Her composure crumples at her feet like balled-up paper, thrown carelessly across the room; though this lasts only a heartbeat's length, it paints the crease of her brow with such sadness.

Her grief feels old, but young. ]

I've only ever had fathers. All my siblings are dead.

[pictured]

[ Stella knows the feeling. Old-young, young-old. All of Mother's children are ageless, an imperfect balance of childhood and adulthood (and that unbearable weight of immortality) captured inside a young frame. When she sees Ripley's expression change, she can feel a pang in her chest, like a string plucked or a window abruptly closed. ]

I've never had a father, [ she admits, swaying gently. ] Let alone many.