Superior numbers versus superior firepower. A recipe for unending slaughter.
"You can eff off, too," I say, except I don't say eff, I say what 'eff' stands for.
Francia don’t look too convinced. I never seen arms so crossed.
We all fall but that's not what matters. What matters is picking yourself up again.
Flakes of white fall thru the trees and onto the road, catching on our clothes and hair. It's a silent fall and it's weird how it makes everything else seem quiet, too, like it's trying to tell you a secret, a terrible, terrible secret.
Midnight passes and I'm twenty-five days and a million years from becoming a man.