I Could Live Here Forever

by Hanna Halperin

The nice thing about writing was it took pain and warped it into something useful. I could shape it into a beginning and a middle and an end. It was manageable that way.

She didn’t seem alarmed or appalled at anything I’d told her so far, and she wasn’t speaking to me as if I were a moron, and this made me feel safer than anything she could have possibly said in that moment.

Being saved from sadness and saving someone from sadness—these weren’t just things I yearned for out of the blue.

Charlie was talking to Ben the way he spoke to his stepbrothers—looking for approval while waiting at the same time to be trampled.

“You’re really quiet,” he announced, not quite making eye contact. Before I could respond, he turned back around in his seat and laughed. “Why’s she so quiet?” he said to Charlie. “Is she scared of me or something?” Charlie laughed, too. “She’s not scared.”