When I met Hannah in my first year of college, I felt like an insecure tween approaching that one kid with double piercings and those spikey rubber earrings on the middle school playground: “I wanna be friends, but this chick is 2 damn edgy 4 me.” And Hannah is Edgy™: she’s got a monochromatic wardrobe and worked as a bladesmith. But she makes knives with soft curves. She will stay up and make you pasta with homemade tomato sauce when you get in late from the airport.
Many of us develop a tough skin as we grow up, calloused over and denatured after repeated blows to our nascent identities, but it takes a particular kind of strength to retain a tender yolk in that process. And an even more rare kind of edge to pierce your own eggy membrane and spread that tenderness around to others.