She knew it the same way a little bird knows which branch to land on.
I have been foolish and wishful and blind time and again—all in the name of love.
I think about love—how it can set the table or flip it over in a tantrum. How it can feel like riding a willful horse—a horse who knows you’re not a strong rider and keeps walking you into the trees. How it can be like a wild animal that rips you apart and makes a quick meal of you.