88.1
Sometimes I can't write to you because it means admitting you're gone. Sometimes I can't write to you because I'm too exhausted, and I just want you to lie across my couch and listen while I rant.
28.2
It's been 4 weeks since they told me you died. Exactly 4 weeks since I found myself standing outside your unit, crying lightly, and shaking; Summer hiding terrified beneath the bed that still supported your empty body - empty because you were gone from us all by then. 4 weeks and this still feels like a nightmare I have yet to wake from.
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