(When Ben was just a few months old, Han traced his cheek with a finger, saw him open his wide dark eyes, and whispered, hello, Ben, in awe. I love you, he had whispered, and kissed the top of his little head.)
A flash of red light.
(Han traces his son’s cheek. I love you, he whispers, and breathes out.
Falling, he finds, is just as easy as flying.)