She belongs nowhere, and so she belongs everywhere. For as long as she can remember she has known peace (of a sort) and craved freedom, and now the possibilities open to her are dizzying.
Sometimes she thinks her skull should crack from the strain of infinity—should, but does not, will not. She can drink the universe—the multiverse, the whole of existence—to its dregs and still be thirsty for more knowledge, more life, simply more. She endlessly creates herself because she is free, unmoored, and that reality is so intense she feels almost drunk with it.
She is Elizabeth, and she has freed herself and created herself, and she can do anything.
She can do anything. That doesn’t mean she can do everything. It’s tempting t