Where Wild Things Roam
I had thought originally, that must be the third point—the sea.
But in just that instant I’m mentally congratulating Darby on telling our dad he can get bent and take it up his arrogant backside, I see that same blue aura diffuse around Sandy. Her wide blue eyes close and she exhales as if the burden of Atlas has been set on her shoulders. When she opens them, they’re not sky blue anymore. They’re the clear, limpid blue of glacier ice, refractile and multifaceted, and to put it bluntly, fucking breathtaking.
It’s not the third point Darby carried. It was the sixth—the spirit. The energy of connections, of powerful emotions like love and sincerity, which now inhabits Sandy.
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