We kiss. Her hands are freezing on my face, and she tastes like coffee and the smell of the onion is still stuck in my nose, and my lips are all dry from the endless winter. And it's awesome.
Nothing was happening, really, but the moment was thick with mattering
This was what I liked most about my friends: just sitting around & telling stories.
She was nothing but good and I was nothing but bad, but then she died, and I didn't.
Because no one can catch the motherfucking fox.
Colin's skin was alive with the feeling of connection to everyone in that car and everyone not in it. And he was feeling not-unique in the very best possible way.