“He wraps an arm around me, and I swear we were once a single unit, a supercontinent divided millions of years ago – like my fifth grade science project – now reunited into some kaleidoscopic New Pangea. “I’m Madagascar,” I say, sleepily. “You’re what?” “I’m Madagascar. And you’re Africa.” He squeezes my shoulder, and – I think he gets it. I bet he does.”
