daphne hirsch, district seven | CBD | 2

'You have a good heart.'

That's what her grandmother told her once. All those years ago, in the garden outside her childhood home — she had roses in her hands and the thorns cut deep. The blood didn't bother her. Her mother called her a menace, a wild girl that was more trouble than she was worth; but there was goodness inside her, like a will-o'-the-wisp deep in the woods. She tried to follow its light whenever the darkness closed in.

And it came often, without warning, but she held on to the sun. She wasn't afraid of burning. Even as time passed and took her family with it, she had so much warmth within her soul. She wanted adventure, and she wanted a purpose — and she became a nurse not just to provide for herself, but to experience as much as she could. There were so many stories to be told in the swirl of purple across a bruise, in the fissure between split skin. She wanted to learn and to heal and to be bright.

Her fingers shake now, and her feet have since rooted themselves to the ground; but nothing hurts.

Nothing breaks.