Contemporaneous: Chapter 52
52. We end up at a bar in the city, and then another, drinking obliviously, paying too much for beer and, for the most part, reminiscing about school, friends, and family; or talking about important theological questions, like which Star Trek series are better (but agreeing that all the new stuff is shit); that Stranger Things is grossly overrated as style over substance; how modern Hollywood predominantly makes special effects extravaganzas rather than stories; and then we talk about death, because that’s where it’s lumped nowadays as a discussion – from pop culture to the ultimate end. “If I had the guts to do it,” Stan says, “I’d go.” We’re…
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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