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However, the puppy would not drink the milk.
“One thing dies, and another is born.
My brother and my sister resumed the card game of Speed they’d been playing. My dad and Lolo returned their attention to their bottles of San Miguel. My mom gave my shoulder one last squeeze and then went over to the outdoor kitchen to help Tita Chato, Tita Ami, and Lola finish preparing lunch.
grateful for the chance to escape from everyone without being by myself.
My brother, Chris, still hasn’t responded.
Seth and I have been friends for a long time, but we never get too deep into things.
If I had tried to get him to talk about it, it would have made things worse.
How do you mourn someone you already let slip away? Are you even allowed to?
“He’s gone,” Dad repeats after some time. “That’s it.” And then a nervous laugh escapes his lips.
What did his last one say? I don’t even remember. But this I’ll never forget: I left it unanswered.
Tito Maning didn’t allow him or his sisters to have social media or even their own email accounts.
the one dated the December when we were fourteen, shortly before Jun ran away from home.
I don’t want to be another one of those people who just pretends like they don’t know about the suffering,
“So we’re just going to act like this didn’t happen? Like Jun didn’t even exist?” After a beat, she turns around to face me and crosses her arms. “If that’s what’s best for his family, then yes.”
She sighs. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?” “No.” “Just like your father . . .” she says quietly. Except her comment confuses me because he lets everything go.
“Isn’t that illegal?” “The government determines what’s legal.”
us didn’t even say shit when we saw someone slap the books out of a kid’s hands in the hallway. In fact, the most outspoken supporter of the idea during the discussion was a kid who did that kind of dumb stuff all the time and thought it was hilarious.
But I’m left to wonder, did my parents’ silence—and mine—allow Jun’s death in some way?
his death tallied as an improvement to society.
It was like he used all his compassion on strangers and ran out by the time he came home.
How I’m feeling? I don’t know. Why does it matter?
I walk away, regretting that I opened up even as little as I did.
the system in which police officers earn certain amounts of money for killing specific types of suspects, creating an economy of murder—especially since there are no bonuses for arrests.

