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It’s only a matter of time before he’s pulled back into the orbit of the other lifeless hedge fund drones he calls coworkers, who break the time-space-sanity continuum by working thirty-hour days and turning their blood into Red Bull.
look up so comically fast that my brain might as well have played a record scratch.
The kind that makes you linger on a page too long because he’s just put a hazy feeling into such concrete words that it pulls old memories from your own life into the text.
She wanted what was best for us, would burn down the world for us if she had to, but would accidentally burn us in the process, too.
Sana drops the laptop on the table by the door and pulls me in for a hug so tight that it feels like she’s keeping the pieces of me together.
