When the World Tips Over

by Jandy Nelson

He wanted to drive all night with her through the empty desert and then read together in some noisy diner.

We were together, I forget the rest.

Miles can’t come to the phone, to school, to your party, to practice, to existence. He has a terrible case of doorknobs. He has a terrible case of sludge, of dead birds, of what have I done, of keep out. He has a terrible case of fuck off already all of you. He’ll get back to you when he’s found someone to trade heads with. Thanks for being in touch.

You can tell when death is near people. You can see it on a face, hear it in a voice. It’s like grief is an exclusive club and members recognize each other as easily as if they were wearing name tags.