“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.”


2. 1/19/16

An app was popular at the time.

It would speak what you typed, but phonetically.

Pep band for the girls basketball game on a Thursday night.

We were dating then.

Or whatever the teenaged equivalent of that is.

We would spend every day after school together.

Drivers Ed didn’t start till 6.

We wouldn’t go anywhere, I wasn’t allowed to leave the school.

Privacy was found on a bench away from our friends.

His friends.

People we knew.


I played my drum and he played his euphonium.

Ching cha cha ching cha cha ching cha ching cha cha cha

Ching cha cha ching cha cha badabadabadabadaba


Chris laughs in the dimly lit hallway.

Jake climbs the curtain in the auditorium.

Now the storage room is unlocked.

Trevor, Chris, and Kalvin sit at the base of the stairs, laughing at their usual antics.

We can hear them, but only faintly over the loud silence of the room.

He sat on the step up to the false floor.

I sat below him, leaning uncomfortably on his chest.

Somehow it was the most natural feeling.

You could see the circle through the thin leather of his wallet.

We joked about it, but we never touched it.

That was supposed to be the night of my first everything.

My first time kissing someone, my first time having sex, my first time getting lost.

We were scared. Our lips didn’t touch though we seemed fearless.

Noises from below say that Noah is phonetically molesting me.


There’s a buzzing in his pocket, he steps out of the room to answer it.

“My dad wants me to come home. He’s worried about the snow.”


My confidence deflates to sub-zero levels.

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