when it’s all so easily wiped away?” I brave finding his eyes again. “I believe it’s either that, or … or you decide that everything matters. All of it, all that little shit. Everything in the present and how it makes you feel in those tiny moments, because you can’t possibly know when it’ll all go away. If the result of that sort of caring is what makes me too nice, then fine,” I say. “But I’m not weak for that.”
