#i’m a babel lover but just looking at the book as part of the dark academia subgenre

[belle-keys]

i think the biggest difference between babel and the secret history is the notion of telling versus showing.

richard tells us over and over again about the beauty of the hampden college campus, about the lovely days spent at francis’ house, about how beauty is terror, about the sense of belonging he found in his classics class. but the story explicitly shows us the reality is not what richard preaches. they killed their friend, they justified it in the name of hellenism, they were horrible to each other, they all lost their minds. there’s layers to the storytelling and an incongruous, inverse relationship between the true story and its teller.

babel is exceptionally well-researched and the story is as comforting as it is harrowing and its deffo a book society needs. but the story doesn’t actually show us anything that it doesn’t explicitly reiterate through its dialogue and actions again and again. robin thinks to himself that the british empire is evil (true) and then we immediately see an example of how the british empire is evil. the story spells itself out to the reader as history spells itself out to robin. it’s thematically exquisite but the narrative style is uninteresting.

[rymndsmth]

querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy! 

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling. 

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive. 

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend. 

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about. 

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed. 

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung  and his girlfriend). 

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller. 

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores. 

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place. 

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion. 

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned. 

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea. 

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot. 

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing. 

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition. 

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.  

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.  

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later. 

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood. 

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived. 

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history. 

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide. 

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen. 

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter. 

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons. 

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag. 

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush. 

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it. 

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest. 

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all. 

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued. 

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though. 

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips. 

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush. 

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her? 

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him. 

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors. 

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table. 

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you. 

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down. 

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished. 

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his. 

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow. 

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did. 

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin. 

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers. 

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes. 

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.  

[itsthegameilike]

Best Books of 2020

Hi all! As always, I read some banger books this year and I like to do my best to get like everyone in the world to read them, because they’re deserving and being an author is hard. So, without further ado, here are the books that made my year! There Will Come a Darkness/As the Shadow Rises--Katy Rose Pool A pretty standard fantasy YA fare, but a step above in character and entertainment. There’s a world-ending prophecy, of course, and a collection of kids trying to save the day, but the world building is excellent and the plot develops from the characters and their relationships, not the other way around. I have characters I would die for and the second book in the series didn’t fall into the typical mid series lag. 8/10. The Lost Future of Pepperharrow--Natasha Pulley This was a follow up to The Watchmaker of Filigree Street, which is another of my personal favorites, and this did not disappoint. I, in fact, like it better than the first. Set in Japan in the late 1800s, it is part ghost story and mystery, as Thaniel’s--the main character--love interest goes missing, his past having caught up to him. Thaniel is so relatable and his devotion and relationship with Mori could carry me through like forty more books exactly like this. I don’t want to give it away, but it’s one of the most satisfying historical fiction queer relationships I’ve ever read. 10/10.

The Vanished Birds--Simon Jimenez A space odyssey story that hits closer to home for me than most do, as I’m not typically a science fiction fan. There are aspects of time and space travel, leaving the main character outside of normal space and time, meaning most of her friends have aged and died past her. Eventually, she meets a boy, lost and alone, and grudgingly takes him in. They form a bond, but he has a secret and it ends up wrecking her ship, her crew, etc. but she does her best to keep him safe anyway. The plot is incredible, lots of twists and turns--the good kind--and I’m more than a slut for found family stories, so here we are. 9/10.

Upstream--Mary Oliver This is an essay collection by Mary Oliver and like everything by her, it changed my life just a little. Before this year, I wasn’t reading her every day and now I am. She offers much needed perspective and the tools for self healing and this short essay collection is such a simple way to get started. I loved it to pieces, just as I love her. 10/10.

The Autobiography of Red--Anne Carson I read a fuckton of Anne Carson this year. I encountered her on this site and decided to read as much as I could and I have no regrets. This was my favorite by her, but they’re all so so so good. This is a modern retelling of a Greek myth starring Herakles and Geryon, centered on their relationship and Geryon’s journey to discovering his own power. There are times when it is incredibly harrowing, but I stopped like every two pages just to process her way with words. This is the most English major offering of the year, as it works heavily in metaphor and allegory--and is also poetry--but it is worth it. 10/10. P.S. If you’re looking for more Anne Carson, I also highly recommend The Beauty of the Husband.

This is How You Lose the Time War--Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone God, I loved this book. Maybe the surprise of the year for me. The writing is absolutely gorgeous and the tropes are some of my favorites. Two women on opposite sides of a war who fall in love with each other through hidden messages and a happy-ish ending. Though it is more vignettes than an actual plot--that being said, the ending comes through--it still affected me intensely. 9/10.

The House in the Cerulean Sea--T.J. Klune Read this book, please. Please, please, please. It is the comfort you need, I promise. It’s about a weary man, stuck in the hell cycle of capitalism, who is sent on a job to an old, rickety house owned by a man who takes care of magical creatures/children than no one else will take care of. They fall in love and the mc finds a family and begins to enjoy his life. The relationship is so healing and cute and I spent half my time screaming and the other half crying. 10/10.

Gideon the Ninth/Harrow the Ninth--Tamsyn Muir I do not even know where to begin talking about these. They’re weird, hilarious, morbid, and absolutely wonderful. I would die for both mc’s, who are definitely halfway through an incredible enemies-friends-lovers plot, and this book surprised me with plot twists more than once. There are necromancers and bones and sacrifices and threesomes with God and queer characters up the wazoo and old, dangerous ruins and space and ugh. I reread these almost the second I finished--both of them--and I know I’ll need to reread before the last book comes out. 10/10.

Tell the Wolves I’m Home--Carol Rifka Brunt I gave this to every member of my family to read, almost directly after I sobbed for like forty-five minutes at the end. It’s from the POV of a young girl whose uncle dies of AIDS and can’t find comfort in her own family, because they didn’t like him nearly as much as she did. She becomes friends with the boyfriend he left behind and they heal each other through their friendship. It wrecked me and put me back together. 10/10.

These Violent Delights--Chloe Gong This book is a retelling of Romeo & Juliet in Shanghai...loosely. But it’s such a good read. Shanghai is so visceral it’s practically it’s own character and the threat of the monster lose in the city is genuinely terrifying. Juliette and Roma were together at one point, then broke up after a betrayal, and when they come back together to save the city, it creates such an interesting character dynamic that never lost my interest. Lots and lots of props too to the relationship between the Benvolio & Mercutio counterparts. I cannot wait for the continuation of that in the next book. Just...so good. 9/10.

Honorable Mentions: A Deadly Education-Naomi Novak, The Only Good Indians-Stephen Graham Jones, The Memory of Babel-Christelle Dabos (only here because it’s the 3rd book in a series, it’s a 10/10), Black Leopard Red Wolf-Marlon James, The Eye of the Heron-Ursula K Le Guin, and Fifty Words for Rain-Asha Lemmie

[alwaystrustinbooks]

Welcome to ATIB’s first Top 2018 post! I know what you are thinking. More top posts about 2018… We all have to do it and I am behind on life so I apologise for that. So I thought I would pace my posts into separate genres and share them occasionally in the coming months so get comfy because I have lots to talk about. If you have already discarded 2018 and have moved on to the epic year of books that is 2019 then that is fair enough but have a little peek at my lists anyway just in case there was a book you’ve missed. I am starting with Fantasy because it is such a huge part of my blogging content. Plus 2018 was an exceptional year for fantasy and I can’t dismiss the opportunity to talk about it! Enjoy the list.

I haven’t really decided on a ‘book of 2018’ yet but a close contender would have to be Kings Of The Wyld. I’m not going to stop talking about it any time soon, no matter how sick people are of hearing it. It could be my favourite fantasy read of all time. Solid writing, incredible characters and a brilliant world to explore. Bloody Rose only expands that world even more and takes us on completely new adventures. Eames has stormed into the genre with passion and I can only say ‘Bravo’! I feel so old school 😀

Another book I can’t stop talking about. Welcome To Night Vale is something everyone must try at least once as there is so much to love about it. A podcast set in a weird and wonderful town call Night Vale. The town’s newscaster Cecil divulges town situations and events through his radio show (his voice is so satisfying) and it is incredibly bizarre and hilarious. The characters that populate the town are all interesting, weird and abstract. The show is probably the most quotable piece of writing I have ever experienced. I loved It Devours because it brought the idea of WTNV to the page in a way that the first novel struggled to do. It is a unique story set in the world of Night Vale and I was very impressed. It can be read as standalone and I highly recommend it to anyone who wants a wholly different reading experience.

Joanne M. Harris has consistently blown me away with her work with Norse Mythology and The Gospel Of Loki was definitely the reason I got into the series in the first place. The Testament of Loki was a fantastic continuation of this iteration of classic Norse Mythology storytelling, tackling the epic event of Ragnarok. Introducing a new key character definitely made for some interesting developments and interactions as well. If you enjoy mythology then this is the best you’ll ever get!

Tom Lloyd is an outstanding fantasy author who has created an appealing and immersive world and just the right characters to inhabit it. Vivid and gripping storylines with individuals I enjoyed spending time with. I just wanted it to keep going and going. I was so happy to see that the Princess Of Blood was even better than Stranger Of Tempest as it makes the series even more worth picking up. I just found out that Book #3 Knight Of The Stars is out 27.06.19 which is too far away. Quicker please!

I know Blackwing was 2017 and Crowfall (look at that cover!!!) isn’t out till the middle of 2019 but Ravencry was definitely a highlight of 2018! I couldn’t not share this series as it is an accomplished and badass set of stories and Ed McDonald is worthy of our admiration. Galharrow’s story is a mighty one and the imagery and concepts explored in these books are outstanding. I can’t wait to get lost in Misery all over again in June!

Josiah Bancroft’s Books Of Babel series is absolutely superb. I have never seen such a fully realised and deep setting filled with more interesting characters than you could ever want. I am currently reading The Hod King right now and even this far into the series I am still blown away by how far JB’s imagination goes and where he is taking this story of rescue and transformation. If you pick up any fantasy series this year, let it be this one.

I have added The City Of Lost Fortunes to the list because it surpassed my expectations by so much and I can’t thanks Bryan Camp for writing the book that I wanted American Gods to be. This book is far from what it seems and I was lost in its pages for its entirety. I picked this up on a whim and I was rewarded greatly with a kick ass story about demigods, gambles with life and death, chaos and the grief of a city. A must read for all mythology lovers.

Thank you for visiting to see my first, yes first, 2018 favourites list. Fantasy is core to my blogging style and its great to celebrate it at any given moment. 2018 was a solid year for fantasy and I can only hope 2019 has even more in store for us. Is fantasy your favourite? Did I miss any must reads on this list you would like to share? Can you tell me a fantasy title you are watching out for in 2019? Let me know. Thanks again for all your support and let’s have a great bookish 2019!

    Top Fantasy Novels – 2018 #Fantasy #Epic #Dark #KingsOfTheWyld #2018 #Favourites #Reviews #Reading Welcome to ATIB's first Top 2018 post! I know what you are thinking. More top posts about 2018...

[yarn-bard]

Snowed In

It was 11 A.M. on a snowy Christmas morning, and it was one of the worst days of my entire life. I sat in a quiet corner and cried as I watched the snow gently fall. “Flight 235 is now boarding rows 1-10,” the voice on the intercom said. Some people moved behind me, dragging luggage after them, and I tried to muffle my sniffling.

It was 11 A.M. on a snowy Christmas morning, and I was stuck at an airport. Separated from my family by a full three-hour flight that wouldn’t depart until early tomorrow.

I tried to read the book I’d brought, but I couldn’t stay focused, and every time my attention started to drift, I’d just start crying again. The woman at the nearest service desk looked at me with sympathy each time I swung by to grab another tissue. She has a hard job, I thought, noticing that I was far from the only person crying in this airport at this particular time.

After an hour or so, the woman at the service desk left. She returned with a large bowl of sweets, which she offered to everyone on my delayed flight. I took a butterscotch hard candy, and she scooped out a whole handful of them and deposited them onto the table beside me, insisting that I take them.

I think the woman’s shift ended after that, because another woman had taken her place at the desk, and I didn’t see her again. At least someone here got to go home for Christmas, I thought.

Time passed. The tears stopped coming; maybe I exhausted myself.

At some point, I tried to take a nap. Just curled up in one of the uncomfortable seats and closed my eyes. But it was almost impossible to find a comfortable position to sleep in, and I was already dreading having to spend the whole night here. Not to mention the fact that I was nervous about my stuff getting stolen even if I did somehow manage to fall asleep.

They ordered everyone on my flight pizza for lunch. It tasted mediocre, but I was hungry and miserable enough that I didn’t care. I thought maybe I’d buy myself a nicer dinner at an airport restaurant. Somehow, I didn’t think the airplane employees felt sorry enough to give us a free Christmas dinner.

More time passed. I wandered around the airport for a while until my shoulder got sore from lugging around my bag. I went online and saw all of my friends talking about Christmas, and that got me crying again.

There was a short line at the restaurant I picked for dinner. I recognized the woman who stood in front of me as another passenger from the same delayed flight. She smiled at me, though I could see by her smudged eyeliner that she’d been crying, too. I’d removed my own makeup hours earlier, tired of having to reapply it over and over again.

“Where are you headed?” I asked her.

“Seattle,” she said. “How about you?”

“Portland,” I said. “Though I think we’re going to be on the same Seattle flight.” It was the earliest flight that still had open seats.

“Table for two?” The waiter asked us. I hadn’t realized we’d moved up so far in line.

Me and the girl exchanged a look.

“Sure,” I said. “Sounds good,” the girl agreed.

I guess neither of us wanted to eat alone on Christmas.

I’m normally kind of awkward and shy around strangers, but for whatever reason, I didn’t have any trouble talking to this woman. Her name was Olivia, she had shoulder-length dark hair and eyes, and it turned out we had a lot in common. We went to the same school, liked a lot of the same television shows (and disliked the same sports), and had both grown up on the rainy side of the Pacific Northwest.

By the end of dinner, we were laughing and giggling together, and it was honestly a better time than I’d had on most of the dates I had been on in my brief stint of adulthood.

We hung around each other after dinner, too, glad for some companionship.

I got out my deck of tarot cards just to shuffle it around in my hands a little, give me something to do. Olivia watched with interest. “You do tarot?” she said, her eyes wide.

“Yeah,” I said. “Sometimes, I make a couple bucks doing readings for people at the airport. If you want, I’ll do you for free, though.” I smiled.

“Okay,” Olivia said.

We settled down on the floor. I handed her the cards to shuffle, and she did so with a delicate ease, like she was handling something precious.

“Do you have anything in mind you want to ask, or do you just want a general reading?” I asked.

She stared down at the cards, lost in contemplation for a long moment. “Just a general reading,” she decided.

I drew three cards. One of the most basic spreads: a card for the past, a card for the present, and one for the future.

Olivia giggled when the second card I turned up was The Lovers, with all of its nudity and sexual implications. I blushed, not usually this easily embarrassed over something so silly. “This is a card about choice,” I explained. “Free will and all of that. Though it can also mean love.”

“Maybe it’s about choosing love,” Olivia said softly. “Or just having the freedom to love.” She looked up at me, and my breath caught, though I did not know why.

I directed my gaze back to the cards. “It’s a bit rare to get three major arcana like this. It means that there are a lot of bigger forces at work in your life right now, things that you don’t have as much control over.” I said. In order, I had drawn The Tower, The Lovers, and then The Star.

“Bit ironic to get The Star on Christmas, isn’t it?” Olivia asked. “With the whole star leading everyone to Jesus’ birth and all.”

I smiled. “Yeah,” I said. “The Star is… hope, I guess. It’s a hopeful card, but also kind of a sad one. Because you’re chasing after something that you can’t have. It’s up in the sky, out of reach.”

I’ve done enough readings for people that I can always tell when I say something that cuts to the bone for the querent. And what I just said cut right through to Olivia’s marrow. She flinched back, her physical recoil almost imperceptible, yet unmistakable.

I switched my focus to a different card, trying to give her a little space. “And The Tower is, well…” I started.

“You tried to get too close to God and God struck you down,” Olivia said. “Babel. Cataclysm.” She spoke from old wounds.

“You’ve got a great intuition for this,” I said. My smile was a bit rueful, now.

Olivia shrugged. “You just drew the right cards,” she said. “Thank you, though.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, gathering up my cards. “Sometimes tarot has only hard truths for us.”

Around 11 P.M.—which marked over twelve hours we’d spent in this airport—Olivia and I overheard a man at the service desk telling another traveler that the airport had set out blankets and sleeping mats for the unfortunate souls who were trapped here overnight.

I claimed my sleeping mat and blanket with relief, glad I didn’t have to attempt to sleep in the uncomfortable airport seats.

Then Olivia and I located our flight’s gate, unfolded our mats right next to each other, and settled in for the night. It felt almost like a sleepover, two girls curling up next to each other, close enough to whisper secrets. Only, Olivia was staring at me in a way that no girl had ever stared at me before, and my heart was pounding in my chest, and I couldn’t identify the feeling that stretched tight in my heart.

Olivia moved closer. I closed my eyes and leaned in.

It was nearly midnight on a snowy Christmas night, and I was kissing another girl for the first time in my life. It was a good kiss; a little sweet, a little intense. A little happy and a little sad, maybe.

Afterward, I stroked her hair and watched the snowfall outside the airport window. “I think I’m going to choose to focus on the hope part,” Olivia whispered.

We held each other all through the night, tangled up under both of our blankets. Tomorrow, we would get on our flight, and after that, we would maybe never see each other again.

I watched the last couple minutes of Christmas tick away into the clouded, starless night, and for the first time that day, I wished that this moment would never end.