It’s hard to verbalize what’s been happening, and for the most part I feel no need to. Most things are too large to discuss well – it’s impossible to capture the nuances of them.

I will say, though, that I was at a party a few nights ago. Everyone was laughing and dancing until one of my friends got a phone call and left the room. After that we spent the rest of the night trying to console her.

Sitting outside in the cold, cough-crying, “I’m sorry, sometimes I cry about my dead friends.”
“Sometimes that’s the most perfect thing in the world to do,” someone else said, rubbing her back.