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“Ten years ago, when she was eighteen and not called Arrow, she borrowed her father's car and drove to the countryside to visit friends. It was a bright, clear day, and the car felt alive to her, as though she and the car moving together was some sort of destiny, and everything was happening exactly as it ought to. As she rounded the corner, one of her favourite songs came on the radio, and sunlight filtered through the trees the way it does with lace curtains, reminding her of her grandmother, and tears began to slide down her cheek. Not for her grandmother, who was then very much alive, but because she felt an enveloping happiness to be alive, a joy made stronger by the certainty that someday it would all come to an end. It overwhelmed her, and made her pull to the side of the road. Afterwards she felt a little foolish, and never spoke to anyone about it. Now, however, she knows she wasn't being foolish. She realizes that for no particular reason she stumbled into the core of what it means to be human. It's a rare gift to understand that your life is wonderous, and that it won't last forever.” — Steven Galloway