The Summer I Died

by Ryan C. Thomas

Besides, what do you get when you graduate from college? A thirty-thousand-dollar I-O-U note that promises to get you into the most elite social clubs in the world but in fact gets you Jack, Shit, and their cousin Fuckall.”

You don’t just concede defeat in these circumstances. You take every second you can find and use it to pray for another few seconds. Hope is a cruel bitch.

Life really is amazing, and when you’re about to lose it, you finally notice that you never really took it in before. And you realize the sheer magnitude of what it involves, from your first kiss to your hundredth slice of pizza. I guess that’s why those tears drifted down my cheeks.

I dropped the dice onto his chest and screamed. At first no sound came out, as if I’d forgotten how to use vocal cords. Then, in one giant rush of air, my scream erupted into the heavens above. I screamed so loud it hurt my own ears. I screamed until my muscles burned with exertion. I screamed with everything I had in me, purging myself of every ounce of sanity. I screamed for so long I tasted blood. I was still screaming, my head thrown toward God, when the police car pulled to a stop several feet down the road.