Contemporaneous: Chapters 48 – 49
48. “Back already?” Luca asks me, sitting against the table’s edge as he folds his arms across his chest. “Fuckface.” “That …” I say, like that one word will encompass the entire experience. That. And it does, but it also represents every stream of thought I have. I go with what’s strongest in my mind: Autumn. “Is that like punishment?” I ask. “You kill Autumn because I took my own life?” “You’re not that important, dickweed. A least not in some celestial sense.” “Autumn died—” “Shit happens.” “Shit happens? Who the fuck are you? Forrest Gump?” “Life is like a box of cuntings,” Luca says. “You never know when or…
Contemporaneous: Chapters 46 – 47
46. I sleep fitfully, drag myself out of bed, then go through my morning routine like it might be any other day, but there’s some weight I’m carrying now – my limbs are leaden, and my back is tight with all these little aches that make me think of writhing maggots. When I get to the work, everybody’s clustered together, huddled, hugging, crying. This is the best we can do in mourning: mourn together. One head of hair stands out – pink. Melody fucking Merlo. Seeing me, she rushes over with the urgency of a girlfriend charging a partner they haven’t seen for a long time, and hugs me so…
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