Ah coffee. The sweet balm by which we shall accomplish today's tasks.

One night you will ask me for something I cannot give.

You can always count on your family to love you. And to betray you. And then to feel guilty about it.

My head is pounding. I wish the mints were aspirin.

I have no memory of climbing the stairs up to the roof. I don't even know how to get where I am, which is a problem since I'm going to have to get down, ideally in a way that doesn't involve dying.

Isn't every hero aware of all the terrible reason they did those good deeds?" Aware of every mistake they ever made and how good people got hurt because of their decisions? Don't they recall the moments they weren't heroic at all? The moments where their heroism led to more deaths than deliberate villainy ever could?

Once, there was a girl who vowed she would save everyone in the world, but forgot herself.