Long Week. Long Month. Long Life.

This Was What I Liked Most About My Friends: Just Sitting Around & Telling Stories.

I Thought Of The One Thing About Home That I Missed, My Dad's Study With Its Built-in, Floor-to-ceiling Shelves Sagging With Thick Biographies And The Black Leather Chair That Kept Me Just Uncomfortable Enough To Keep From Feeling Sleepy As I Read.

He Flipped Himself Onto His Side And Kissed Me. "you're So Hot," I Said, My Hand Still On His Leg. "i'm Starting To Think You Have An Amputee Fetish," He Answered, Still Kissing Me. I Laughed. "i Have An Augustus Waters Fetish," I Explained.

Because There Is No Glory In Illness. There Is No Meaning To It. There Is No Honor In Dying Of.

I Would Always Love Alaska Young, My Crooked Neighbor, With All My Crooked Heart.