They only want family inside. I’m the one who woke up next to him this morning. I’m the one who made him his coffee. I’m the one who wished him luck on his race, the one who kissed him and tried to work up the nerve to tell him I love him before chickening out for the hundredth time. But I’m not family. And so, while he dies behind frosted glass walls, I lock myself in the first bathroom I can find and cry until I’m sick.
