“Fuck,” he screams, in a rage against the sky. The hooded people turn and stare, in a wave, like a thousand grim reapers. This march is much too morbid, I realize, everyone clad in Tariq’s death shroud. Noodle’s fury is more right, more real. Losing Jennica rips him. Losing Tariq rips me even deeper. Because it’s definitely forever.
