Chapter 12
Twelve
Cyrus. His name is Cyrus. The first syllable the sigh of opening wings, the second the rustle of feathers.
The whole thing together is a sunlit brightness, like citrus—or the open-mouthed, sun-thirsty beauty of iris.
A name like secrets, the roots growing beneath the bottom of the lake. A name like reaching for the sky.
Oh, you’re done for.
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