with beer bongs and messy boys who didn’t know how to do anything but shove shoulders down for head
A glassy-looking eye staring out too from Mr A’s head. Had he been a victim somewhere along the line?
Because if something is inherently taboo, in any way, it’s probably worth exploring.
I’m hitting my vape while he’s being vulnerable.
I started talking like a retired showgirl in a ruined by cigarettes raspy voice and asking my mom things like ‘what good is Tom without some of Dick and Harry on the side?’
Over the next few days, through a method of trial and error, I taught myself the basics of frontier survival.
You're glowing, she said. And why would I be glowing? It can't be the gutrot wine, or last week's fast food lunches. It can't be my Quasimodo limp, I smashed my toe on a fire hydrant trying to
Run to him,
it urged. Drop to your knees
His friends document their lives incessantly. Shots of grand scenery from lookout points. Screenshots of their heart rates and macros.
When she used to swim at night her bones cut through water like perforating paper. It was always the same ritual, pants off first with a slight shimmy, arms up high overhead to get rid of the
It is a horrible thing to lose a friend, they said, and their saying this made him angry. What did they understand? They didn't understand a single thing.
I am at such peace but I take a beat
to pause, that’s all, to feel so full, hearted, set.
“We’re watching Bluey,” I say. “And we’re starving,”
