And then … she saw them.

The northern lights.

They were hovering and pulsing in the star-filled sky above, filling it with streaks of red and green and yellow and white and even blue and purple.

Glory was stupefied.

“Wow!” she whispered as she took in the otherworldly display. “Wowwwww!” she whispered more quietly, as not to disturb them. “They’re so beautiful.”

And they were—so beautiful that Glory forgot for a moment that they were why she was there. And that they were what—and who—she had come to see.

But she remembered soon enough what and who they were—and why she was there. And when she did, she called out and up into the night sky, “Oh! Wes!” The northern lights seemed to become stiller, as if they were waiting to hear what she had to say. “Wes!” Glory repeated. And then she waved to them, calling, “Goodbye!” And then she repeated the farewell—maybe because she wanted to make sure he had heard her: “Goodbye, Wes!”

And then she did what she had come to Almost to do. And she apologized.

“Wes! I’m—sorry! I’m so sorry!” she said to the sky.

And she was. So sorry.

Because she really did feel partly responsible for his demise.

And she really was sorry he was gone. And that they had parted on such strange terms.

And then she stood in silence as she took in the celestial phenomenon above.

And then she called out one more time, “Goodbye, Wes!”

Glory wondered if Wes had heard her.

And then the aurora seemed to pulsate, as if in appreciation.

And Glory felt sure that Wes had heard her.

And she felt like she had completed her mission.

And then she turned to the man who had said he could repair her heart. Because she felt like she needed to thank him. “East,” she began—but stopped, because he wasn’t there.

And his jacket and the pieces of her heart weren’t there either.

Glory looked around for him.

And found him a few moments later when the motion-sensor lights on the farmstead’s old barn came on and revealed East’s silhouette moving against the white of the snow and the white of the old barn until it disappeared through the side door and into the building.

And then she saw the lights inside come on.

And then she followed East. Because she wanted to know if he was doing what he had said he could do.

She crossed into the pool of light that the motion-sensor lights were throwing.

And she got to the door that she had seen East disappear into.

And opened it.

And she entered the old barn.

And she saw East place the slate shards that were once her heart onto a workbench.

And she watched him examine the pieces of slate for a while. He seemed to be contemplating how he’d be able to make the nineteen pieces into something whole again.

Glory almost stopped him. Because she realized that maybe she didn’t need him to make those nineteen pieces whole again. Because maybe her old heart didn’t need repairing anymore. Because it—or maybe her artificial one—was loving him just fine.