The way Orion was talking about those near misses of people avoiding the towers, I’m wondering if that was all destiny or dumb luck. What about meeting Orion and Dalma tonight? Was that destiny? Would it have happened if I had left the apartment sooner, or later? What if I had tried riding the train instead? Who’s to say if our paths would’ve ever crossed. What I do know is that I’ve met them and they’re both incredibly strong people. I’m impressed that they’re still standing.

Especially Orion.

He wears his heart on his sleeve more than Dalma, as if that’s some side effect from the viral cardiomyopathy. It’s so endearing. Anyone who makes blanket statements about New Yorkers and their harshness hasn’t met vulnerable Orion.

Dalma checks her phone. “Couple minutes until life changes as we know it. Let’s lift our spirits a bit. What’s something you want to do moving forward? I want to figure out my app and start mapping my designs.”

I have a long list of things I want to accomplish. Magazine covers, Met Gala appearances, walking down the runway at Fashion Week. Though that won’t be accomplished this year alone. I have to put in the time and the work to reach that status. That’s what I’ll keep doing. I’ll book more gigs and keep bulking up so more scouts take me seriously. But after everything I’ve been feeling tonight while walking through this new city, and meeting new souls, I’m inspired to say, “I want to make great memories. Something to look back on whenever existing seems hard.”

Orion grins and nods. “I like that.”

But even behind his grin, I can tell he’s masking some pain. “What about you?”

“Be fast,” Dalma says.

I really wouldn’t mind if Orion wanted to tell another story.

“I don’t want to die,” Orion spits out.

“Didn’t I say let’s be uplifting?”

“Fine, I want to keep living.”

I appreciate his spin, but he doesn’t seem as amused by himself as I am.

We all turn our attention to the mega screen. But Orion’s eyes are closed like he doesn’t want to look at the hourglass. He’s shivering even though it’s pretty warm except for the occasional breeze. No, he’s shaking. His bottom lip is trembling. I think he’s nervous about dying, as if Death-Cast is really going to call him in this next minute. I say his name, and Orion peeks, but then shuts his eye closed again. He’s fighting back more tears. There’s no need to hide a good cry, I’ve been there—multiple times today, in fact.

I lean into his ear. “You’re going to be okay.”

It’s a promise I can’t make, but I’ll hope every day that it’s true.

Orion

11:59 p.m.