“I still like you. I don’t want you gone.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I don’t want to see you hurt. I want to see you feeling great…”
“Life just constantly feels like shit.”


17. 11/26/16 (2/2)

The fog is even colder and even more consuming.

As we fly down the county highway we listen to the radio, 104.1 Jack FM.

I’ve never been happier than I am right now.

This is how life is supposed to feel.

This is how love is supposed to feel.

Up and down hills, drifting around corners, getting lost in the ambient fog.

This morning I was nothing and now I’m every particle of radiant joy that the sun has ever shown  me.


We laugh about how dumb we were.

I apologize again. I know he’s forgiven me. It just makes me feel a little better.

This Bastille loving boy has done me no wrong.

Maybe that’s why all of this feels so right.


He jokes about my lack of determination during Drivers Ed.

I tell him to pull over.

“Wait, Grace, are you serious?”

We search the back roads for somewhere to pull off.

“We should park in Chris’s driveway.”

“Let’s go ding dong ditch K-Watt.”

“Wait. I think I know a place that could work.”

We pull off onto a back road.

By this point I’ve lost all sense of direction. We could be in Wyoming.


My brand new mood ring drops into his cup holder.

“Don’t let me forget this.”



There's this movie that I think you'll like
This guy decides to quit his job and heads to New York City
This cowboy's running from himself
And she's been living on the highest shelf


As he drives me home I check my face in the mirror.

I put my mood ring back on.

His hand is the same size as mine, but round and warm.

“See you Monday, Grace.”


I asked him once why his hands were so soft.

He told me it was his nervous tick.

He would rub his hands together, the dead skin coming off as he did so.

He was just as human as the rest of us.


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