“I thought about how I used to sleep on Gladewood Street with the passing trains at night. It reminded me of the boy who lived even closer to the tracks than I did, whose name I couldn’t remember.”
“She never quite found the words to explain it, but her tears didn’t come from a place of empathy—rather, they reflected something missing inside her.”
“We talked inside for about an hour. A lot of people we knew who used to be friends were no longer friends. Afterwards, we talked for another hour in the parking lot.”
