Skipper smiled, exchanging glances with an innocent looking unicorn with a bright blue eye. The unicorn seemed a bit apprehensive but she was sitting on top of War in the Modern World. (A feat only a unicorn was strong enough to handle.) It was a crazy place where paint brushes covered in paints from all they’ve contributed to, saddle shoes, random rocks, rusted nails, wood and saints, and wooden saints all joined with bunnies made of dust and the spiders that used them for homes and maternity wards. It was a quietly forgotten corner that seemed to celebrate what was and what could be. It was a corner where, “That’s the way I love you” would whisper until the end of days.