The piano called to her from the corner in those first new and lonely days, but she hadn't really felt like playing since he'd passed.

She had an odd sense of vulnerability about her despite the bold prints and towering shoes.

No matter how many songs had debuted at the top of the charts, no matter how many sold-out concerts he had, that moment when he first stepped up to the mic to record a new song was hard.

The wings were what drew her most, the idea that maybe one day she too could spread her arms and flap away, carried by a strong wind wherever it willed.

She'd told me the day I bought the damn thing, and every day since, how ill-suited the car was for this climate.