In a city this size, every year, hundreds of husbands walk away. Kids leave home. Wives escape. People disappear.
If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character, would you slow down? Or speed up?
I am Jack's smirking revenge.
She's so thin she's either dying or rich.
The truth is, wherever you choose to be, it's the wrong place.
Jump to the day we'll all be dead and none of this will matter. Jump to the day another house will stand here and the people living there won't know we ever happened.