We Can All Be Beautiful Girls.

Call It Crazy, Or Just Chicken Salad. But Within Reason, Or Without It I Was In It Too.

Some People, They Can't Just Move On, You Know, Mourn And Cry And Be Done With It. Or At Least Seem To Be. But For Me... I Don't Know. I Didn't Want To Fix It, To Forget. It Wasn't Something That Was Broken. It's Just...something That Happened. And Like That Hole, I'm Just Finding Ways, Every Day, Of Working Around It. Respecting And Remembering And Getting On At The Same Time.

My Experience Is That Sequels Are Rarely As Good As The Originals.

I Jammed My Hand In My Jacket Pocket, Bracing Myself Fo The Next Hit, And Fel Something. Something Grainy And Samll, Sticking To The Tips Of My Fingers: The Sand From Commons Park. Oh Cass, I Thought. I Miss You So, So Much.

Stop It. Seriously. This Isn't Funny.' 'you're Right.' A Pause. 'it's Pathetic.