I close my eyes and try to breathe but the end of the world is in my throat. The summer before the last summer. You are saying something about your brother or mine. I can hear you clearly but it is also as if you are far away. It is unbearable to look back from the future we did not know we had been traveling toward. That is not right. It is unbearable because we did know. It was plain as our own palms.
