But she exists in far too many pieces, now, to function. And try as she might – try as she does, holding herself to a promise never made – they do not easily unweave.

Yes, perhaps each one is itself, its own being.

But it is equally true that she is them all.

And perhaps, in a way, they did get that guide, ninety-nine satellites all yearning towards their untouchably distant hundredth part, heart, and home, gaze tracing the way.