type slowly.


Posted in words by Lara Crombie on November 24, 2009

I remember when you said “everyone dies alone,” with the conviction of an adjudicator delivering his own verdict.  I said “stop that” but really meant “stop that.”  You rolled to one side while I silently compiled a hundred ways of hurting your feelings.  It was Thanksgiving morning and I was in bed with Troy Dyer, except my version smelled like a dirty shirt turned inside out.

I remember your disappointment because I shared it, only you were disappointed by life and I was disappointed by you.  Too many late nights on Hennepin, riding up front with jokes instead of what I really wanted to ask, which was why don’t you just… (but the gist of the just was never wholly defined, and so I hugged your neck and imagined my arms as a giant noose.  Perhaps your last words would be “everyone dies alone”).


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