Your driving is unpleasant, but it isn't technically unsafe.

For the longest time, it felt kind of like my chest was cracking open, but not precisely in an unpleasant way.

She had this dark cancer water dripping out of her chest. Eyes closed. Intubated. But her hand was still her hand, still warm and the nails painted this almost black dark blue and I just held her hand and tried to imagine the world without us and for about one second I was a good enough person to hope she died so she would never know that I was going, too. But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love. I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar.

I smiled. She smiled. I believed the smile.

He lit a cigarette and handed it to me. I inhaled. Coughed. Wheezed. Gasped for breath. Coughed again. Considered vomiting. Grabbed the swinging bench, head spinning, and threw the cigarette to the ground and stomped on it, convinced my Great Perhaps did not involve cigarettes.

Anything that happens all at once is just as likely to unhappen all at once, you know?

You have a choice in this world, I believe, about how to tell sad stories, and we made the funny choice.