My Friends

by Fredrik Backman

She was the best at nearly everything, and she was my human. She was MY human, she was my HUMAN. And now she’s dead and no one even cares, no one even remembers her!

“It was okay,” Louisa says, in the way you do if you have so many bruises and scars all over your body that eventually you can’t be bothered to think it might not be normal.

“No, I mean I’m sorry that you talk about that like it was normal. I’m sorry you didn’t have a better childhood. It isn’t your fault.”