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Some people say that after a life-threatening event, they learn to enjoy life more. That they stop taking everything for granted. Sometimes I felt like punching those people.
“The thing is, we’re all fragile. It’s just that most of our friends are lucky enough not to know it yet.”
Her eyes blinked against exhaustion, and I wondered if she might cry. But not Corey. Not my blue-eyed fighter, the girl who dreamed of skating every night, but always had something positive to say. She humbled me every fucking day.
I was a live wire. I was a kite in a thunderstorm. I was a seismograph, the needle quivering in anticipation of the earthquake.
Suddenly, living my new life seemed more important than mourning my old one.
