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Curving sharply, Orion sped onto the highway and headed north. And as he drove, he started connecting his phone to the radio. “Do you want to let me handle the music so you don’t crash?” I asked. “No.” He pushed play, and energetic yodeling blared from the speakers over a deep horn. Yodelieyoidieohwapidilieayeooo— I let out a long, slow breath. “Is this it?” I asked. “Is this what Hell is, right now?” Orion stared straight ahead. “Of course you can’t appreciate a skilled alphorn solo when you hear one. Philistine.”
“I read a history book once outlining everything that happened in the state of Vermont. Do you know what was in it? There were two chapters devoted to a Victorian prize sheep named Gold Drop. One chapter about farmers walking their turkeys to Boston in the eighteenth century. And then there was the greatest event to ever happen in the history of Vermont, which incidentally did not happen in Vermont. Ethan Allen—the great hero of Vermont, conquered Fort Ticonderoga, which is not in Vermont. And when he got there, it was basically empty, apart from two drunk Redcoats.” My brain was scrambling to
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“How is it you can talk so much and clarify so little? It’s like the world’s shittiest superpower.”
Death reached for me, but along with it came something warm and familiar. I could feel Mom. If this was death, I didn’t have to be so scared anymore. I had no mind left, no body. Just the feeling of love on the other side. And the darkness swallowed me whole.