Gay was Twilight’s word. It sounded strange to Smith’s ears, like a horseshoe that almost fit, but didn’t quite squeeze on. She’d been a gay child: happy, frivolous, excited. The same didn’t seem quite so certain now: her happiness came with an asterisk, like one of Twilight’s old books, a but... on the end of the sentence. She didn’t feel like a gay mare. The word for mares like her when she was young was different, it wasn’t even homosexual, it wasn’t even talked about. But... here she was now, and what was an asterisk but little star, really. Gay.

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