The Dead Romantics

by Ashley Poston

So tall I felt like I’d suddenly been transported into a retelling of “Jack and the Beanstalk” where he was a very hunky beanstalk that I really, really wanted to climb—

Buying books always made me feel better, even if I never read them.

relate to this so hard

“You are not going to die alone,” my roommate replied adamantly. “If anything, you’ll at least have a cat.” “I hate cats.” “You love them.” “They’re assholes.” “Much like every ex-boyfriend you’ve ever had, and you loved all of them.”

cmon why the hate for cats

“I’ve got so much baggage, I’m never alone,”

If someone started crying, I started crying with them, and it turned into a whole ordeal—like

same

Guys just . . . don’t want someone like me. Or maybe they do, but they just don’t want me.”

Small moments you catch, and keep in glass jars like fireflies, or you let go.

“But you know, that’s kind of what I like about you.” “That’s what you like about me? I thought it was my perfect breasts?” The tips of his ears went pink, and he quickly looked away. “Yes, well, they’re not why I like you. They’re a bonus. Like a book sale. Buy two, get one free.”

Because people always left. If they had a choice—they left.

love you, Benji Andor.” He smiled so wide it reached his brown eyes, and turned them ocher, as if that were the happiest thing he’d ever heard. “I love you, too, Florence Day.” “Then I think we should most definitely be platonic friends who swap video streaming service passwords and only see each other once a year at holiday parties.”

LOL

endings were just new beginnings.