Welcome To Adulthood," She Said. "it Sucks

It's Never Long Distance Between Friends.

Talk Was Cheap And Useless. Action Was What Mattered. And Me, I Was Moving. Now, Again, Always.

Usually When I Finish The Draft Of A Book, I'm Sure I'll Never Write Another One. I'm Just That Tired And Sick Of Myself. But Then Another Idea Starts Percolating. It Usually Begins With The Narrator's Name, Then Some Idea That Intrigues Me About Her Life Or Situation. I Try To Ignore It As Long As I Can, Because I Know When I Start Writing, I'll Be Right Back Into It, Every Single Day. But Eventually, I Just Have To. It's A Compulsion!

There Were So Many People, So Much To Navigate, And As The Distance Fluctuated Between Us His Hand Kept Slipping, Down My Arm To My Wrist. And Maybe He Was Going To Let Go As People Pressed In On All Sides, But All I Could Think Was How When Nothing Made Sense And Hadn't For Ages, You Just Have To Grab Onto Anything You Feel Sure Of. So As I Felt His Fingers Loosening Around My Wrist, I Just Wrapped My Own Around Them, Right, And Held On

Morris Was Not The Type To Offer A Hug Or Even Hold Your Hand. But There Was Something In His Quiet Indignation At The Universe Then--and Luke, Now--that Was Just The Kind Of Comfort I Needed. "i'm Such A Mess," I Said. "we're Almost Off The Island And I Didn't Even Ask You Where You Were Going." He Shrugged. "no Place. Wherever You Are.