The Circus Itself Is My Personal Ideal

Trapped In Silence, Marco Traces Apologies And Adorations Across Celia's Body With His Tongue. Mutely Expressing All The Things He Cannot Speak Aloud. He Finds Other Ways To Tell Her, His Fingers Leaving Faint Trails Of Ink In Their Wake. He Savors Every Sound He Elicits From Her. The Entire Room Trembles As They Come Together. And Though There Are A Great Many Fragile Objects Contained Within It, Nothing Breaks.

And There Are Never Really Endings, Happy Or Otherwise. Things Keep Going On, They Overlap And Blur, Your Story Is Part Of Your Sister's Story Is Part Of Many Other Stories, And There Is No Telling Where Any Of Them May Lead.

I Didn't Know Your Identity, But I Had An Impression Of Who My Opponent Was, Being Surrounded By Things You Made.

Perhaps It Is Controlling The Chaos Within More Than The Chaos Without.

And Before He Can Tell Her To Tell Widget Goodbye For Him If Need Be, She Leans Forward And Kisses Him, Not On The Cheek, As She Has A Handful Of Times Before, But On The Lips, And Bailey Knows In That Moment That He Will Follow Her Anywhere.