“I talk and crywhile Nico sits and listens.Like we've been friends forever.Finally, I use the shirtto wipe the tearsand take a deep breath.We're quietfor a long timeand then Nico pointsto a pair of boxer shorts on the floor."I'm glad you picked the shirt.”

“It's likethe silencethat follows the beautiful song.Or the darknessthat follows the glitter in the air.He knewwhat to doto make it better.As I walk toward the door,I take a deep breath.I knowwhat to doto make it better.As heembraced me,I willtry to embracethis daythat follows the day before.”

“Today there's no one here, so I find a rock and open my notebookfilled with letters to Lucca,reading them,noticing how the lettersdecreased in frequencyover the past couple of months.When i started,shortly after he died,I wrote them every day.I hurt so bad, I wanted to scream,but I couldn't,so my words on the pagebecame a diary of the pain.”

“I write a note and tape it to my window--I'M NOT A DETECTIVE.BE SPECIFIC!”

“Guilt reminds me of a stray cat. You chase it away and yet, it comes back when you least expect it. If you let yourself feel pity for it and feed the thing, it parks its ugly, puny, lonely-for-attention butt on your doormat and won't go away. Scat kitty cat, scat. I don't need you sitting around here like that.”

“Another long run, hoping to put distance between me and everything else. The farther, the better. Only problem is, the distance is just temporary, because no matter how far I go, I always have to come back.”

“My heart breaks. Also not the first time. I long to go after him. To find himand hold himand kiss himin the loveliest of gardens.”