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I know that you weren't meant to fly around the sun just like you know that I wasn't meant to catch you when you tried, because we both know that the impact would just leave scorched flesh and scorched earth in a place that has already seen enough wildfires to last at least the length of a nightly bottle of scotch. I understand that after you gave me your trust I let it catch fire, just like everything else, because I don't seem to understand combustible situations in the way you'd like me to, much in the same way that you failed to realize that the friction of our touch might catch something entirely unintended alight, and disrupt the illuminated version of the night sky we've become so accustomed to. --Jordan Blough