That night, after graduation, I taped Caleb’s note beside my mirror.
Not to remind myself of him.
To remind myself of me.
The girl who got out.
The girl who danced.
The girl who stopped waiting for the world to look away before she decided she was whole.
And every morning after that, when sunlight touched the uneven skin on my face, I no longer saw what the fire had taken—I saw the handprint of the boy who had reached through it and promised me a dance.
