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“I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed”

—AS Byatt

Present day

Rory

My life is contained in a round, beautiful snow globe

The kind no one has bothered to pick up from the dusty shelf in years Unshaken Quiet and still Froe looks perfect And it is Kind of At twenty-six, it appears I have ether

Perfect job

Perfect apartment

Perfect roommate

Perfect boyfriend

Perfect lies

Well, they’re not lies, per se All my accomplishments are real I worked hard for theive theain But back then, I wasn’t the same person I am today

I was lost Grieving Broken Confused

Not that it matters, because that was then, and this is now, and it’s not hi at Nope There’s no way

It’s not

…Then why can’t I tear h the doors of The Beerch the way?

Ruddy cheeks tarnished by the unforgiving winter, an aristocratic square jaw, Roman nose, and lips made for the darkest sins and most sordid pleasures—all fra at the ears like ivy, rumpled in a thousand different directions His slanted, brooding eyes, broad shoulders, and narrow hips make him more than handsome He’s perfect Too perfect

As with all cruel, fairy-tale princes, I long to spot so that would indicate his i that would prove his perfection truly is impossible

Pointy ears Long fangs A little tail