I thought the first part was astounding, Sorcha. Apparently you were just warming up.
Life was strange. Every time he began to think of it as a smooth and never-ending road, it tipped itself over and turned inside out. He'd once thought the stars held his fate in their depths - thought if he flew hard enough and fast enough he could maybe reach out and touch his destiny, taste it - but he was wiser now.
He'd given up trying to find rhyme or reason in his existence. His life didn't belong to the stars; it belonged to the woman sitting directly across from him, staring morosely into her mug of tea.
What can I say?
Have you written anythings else? Surely this cannot be your first fic?
