When the Signal Dies, Love Is Logistics—and Every Choice Has a Cost

frozen body waiting for a rescue crew to find me.

It wasn’t a heroic narrative. It was triage.

But try explaining triage to a crowd that wants either saints or villains.

Barnaby lifted his head from his bed that night and looked at me the way he always does when I’m spiraling—like my feelings are weather and he’s the only thing in the room that stays continue reading …