“I think she cried at my funeral. It's not that I'm conceited or anything, but I'm pretty sure. Sometimes I can actually picture her talking about me to some guy she feels close to. Talking about me dying. About how they lowered me into the grave, kind of shrivelled up and pitiful, like an old chocolate bar. About how we never really got a chance. And afterwards the guy fucks her, a fuck that's all about making her feel better.”

“How it's so easy for her to not feel anything at all, to be just completely gone, to not be around to see how fucked up she's made me. She got to disappear completely and I feel like I'm about to combust.”

“I think she and I were talking about how much I adored skateboarding on the computer but how it would never even occur to me to try and step on a skateboard in real life, and then she said, 'Let's play Truth or Dare' and then you fucked her." "Wait, you fucked her? In front of the Colonel?" Takumi cried. "I didn't fuck her.”

“Want to talk about it?" I asked gently.He smirked at me. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm a guy. We don't do that." My nose scrunched up in confusion. "We don't discuss our feelings.""That's a relief; I don't want to talk about it either.”

“But I never think about dead people. Looking at these old graves makes me think how generation after generation of the same family are all gathered together. And that makes me think about how life goes on, but not about dying. I never think about dying.”

“She brought the tea into the living room on a lacquered tray. The pot and cups were Japanese with unglazed rims. She poured. "Thanks," I said. "Well?" "Huh?" "Your family," she reminded. I sipped the tea. "This is really good. Really delicious." She raised her eyebrows. "That's what I thought. You're a good listener, Davy, and you can change the subject on a dime. You've hardly talked about yourself at all." "I talk... too much." "You talk about books, you talk about plays, you talk about movies, you talk about places, you talk about food, you talk about current events. You don't talk about yourself." I opened my mouth, then shut it again. I hadn't really thought about it. Sure, I didn't talk  about the jumping, but the rest? "Well, there's not much to say. Not like those stories of growing up with four brothers." She smiled. "It's not going to work. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But I'm not going to be distracted again, nor fooled into talking about those idiots again." She poured more tea into my cup. I frowned. "Do I really do that?" "What? Not talk about yourself? Yes." "No, try and distract you." She stared at me. "You are fucking amazing. I've never seen someone so good at changing the subject." "I don't do it on purpose." She laughed. ”