I already have two enormously worried parents who stopped by about fifteen minutes ago. My mom brought a towering stack of my favorite comics and philosophy texts. To help distract me from the pain while I wait for news about surgery on my collarbone. She also gave Farrow a tight hug and had to “air hug” me. And my dad—he was choked up, glassy-eyed. They’re just grateful I’m alive. The paramedics told them that if Farrow didn’t release air from my lungs, I probably would’ve died before they arrived. But if you know my dad at all, he’s a hard sell. Saving my life is like half-a-brownie point.
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