Melody told me that night in the rain, the night she hopped onto the hood of her car, drenched in new purpose, her soul cleansing and purging before my eyes—she told me that all broken things can be fixed. The hard part is deciding that they’re worth fixing. As the thick silence settles over me, an old friend turned enemy, the truth is evident with every minute that ticks by in her absence. We’re not worth fixing.
