She turns to me, and somewhere in the haze of grief we wrap our arms around each other, in the same desperate way we did when she told me she had forgiven me for killing Will. Our friendship has held up under an incredible weight, the weight of me shooting someone she loved, the weight of so many losses. Other bonds would have broken. For some reason, this one hasn’t.
people who are in their 20 or 30s complaining about ‘kids these days’ is super funny to me, like i saw someone complaining about how kids at some pool were playing marco polo but with ‘hashtag’ ‘yolo’ and if that’s not funny to you then what the hell sucked the joy out of your life