“Like the first End Day,” I say, weighed down by the trauma that I swing my backpack off my shoulder and reach inside. Alano comes at me so quickly that I think he’s about to tackle me, but he just grabs my arm. “Don’t do it,” Alano pleads. “Don’t do what?” “Shoot yourself.” I almost—almost!—laugh in his face. “That’s not what I’m doing,” I say, shrugging him off and pulling out my cigarette and lighter.
"SHES GOT A GUN" "its a letter lisa"
