nothing like the moment i wished would not come to clear me of that buzz. ten o’ clock on an Austrian Sunday: we are the only souls on the corner where the amber light flashes. there’s no traffic at this hour. you hold your yellow bike between us as I throw my arms around you. this time, you expect it. and in those seconds i can’t tell you (and in these words i cannot tell you) how you’ve changed my life. one summer, my Friend, and i’m not dying anymore. you didn’t know what i did to myself, but now i don’t want to; now i don’t need to. i have a choice. i let go to go where you can’t see me cry, and Hannah’s suggestion only delays me, for the absinthe exacerbates everything. once my head meets my pillow and i prepare to speak some shitty Italian, i can only bawl my fucking eyes out because i am sad, and i will miss you, my Friend.