“It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.” “I’m actually relieved,” he told me resolutely, as I pulled out of our hug. “I know where I stand now. I know where this is headed. It’s weirdly comforting.” I knew what he meant. I felt a little of it, too, the relief. So much of my mental and physical energy the past seven months had been expended on trying to avoid the dire outcome Davis had predicted. But now it was undeniable: Kit was going to die. And soon. But mostly I was sad and angry and terrified at the prospect of having to say goodbye to the most wonderful person to ever step foot in my
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