The view of the sea and the little islands dotting the horizon is obscured today, but the rain provides an atmosphere more conducive to the conversation we are about to have. All of us are reeling from our experience with the man in the Between; Ghufran is shaking, so Daraja and Sevda sit on either side of her, giving her comfort and security with their proximity.

Taraana draws away from Paheli for the first time since we met him and sits a small distance from the rest of us. He lifts his trembling fingers to touch his face and takes a deep breath before raising his head. We meet his gaze without speaking. Before we talk, we order, and a little later our tea, accompanied by small plates of mochi, sesame crackers, and green tea cakes, is served. We sip the fragrant beverage from ceramic cups and wait. What we know, but the boy made of stars probably doesn’t, is that the tea served here makes conversations flow easier. He looks like he needs all the help he can get.

Taraana clears his throat and takes a sip of the tea. The lights in his eyes are dim. He has this habit of folding in on himself when he wants to deflect attention. When we made our way through the long winding streets, strung with large red lamps and full of humans, he walked as if he were made of air. We walk as if the roads and the paths we take should be glad we chose them. Then again, we had to learn not to apologize for the space we occupy in the world.

Taraana clears his throat again; his cheeks are flushed. “Earlier,” he says, “I could have taken care of myself. I…” His voice wobbles.

“Being afraid is not a weakness, Taraana.” Paheli wraps her hands around her cup of tea. “In our world, feeling fear is being intelligent because fear keeps you sharp. Fear keeps you ready.” She pauses and looks at him. “Fear keeps you alive.”

Taraana bows his head and shuts his eyes as if letting her words soak into him. Then he looks up and we glimpse the smile on his face. It devastates us, not only because it is beautiful but also because it is made of so many broken things.

“Before I tell you my story, let me ask you what you know about the particularities of the middle world,” he says.

Valentina looks askance at him. “You mean how the not-human men and women are organized in the middle world?”

He nods. Valentina glances at Paheli.