"You don't have to say I love you to say I love you," you said with a shrug. "All you have to do is say my name and I know." "How?" When I looked down at you, I was struck by how much of myself I could see in the shape of your eyes, in the light of your smile. "Sa Cassidy," you instructed. "Cassidy." "Say...Ursula." "Ursula," I parroted. "Now....," and you pointed to your own chest. "Willow." "Can't you hear it?" you said. " When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it's safe inside your mouth."