“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
