>So are you filled with hope and courage yet?
Hell no.
She's filled with anxiety, pain, the fading whisps of embarassment, and healthy dose of freezing terror.
But… maybe.
Bina's pretty sure she doesn't have hidden depths. Not like characters in stories. Her family loves her. She has no dark secrets. Not real ones. She borrowed her friend Hanicka's DVD set of the Wire last year and hasn't given it back yet, but she's not sure that really counts as a dark secret.
Not really.
Her family has never been fighters, or scholars, or healers, or kings.
They were weavers.
And maybe this IS a stupid idea.
Stupider then jumping.
But who cares? Who is going to judge her? Here? Now? In this place?
Petrovich? Seriously. Fuck him.
Because what right has she to think something is impossible. Here. Now. In this place.
You just have to believe!
And because maybe that star above her isn't a star.
Maybe it's a hook.
She should tie a knot in one en -
> Don't think about it, just do it.
No. If she thinks about this, even for a second, she'll realize how ridiculous it is.
She holds onto one end of the half of the small scrap of red, still sticky with her own blood, knowing that it's too short, knowing that this isn't going to work.
> Touch the fabric of sky.
And throws the end of the scarf into the sky.
At the star.
Or the hook.
Or whatever.
And it catches.
Impossibly.
And three and a half feet of frayed fabric, stretch away, miles long, into the sky.