And then there was sun. There was laughter and joy and optimism. And then the monsters descended. And only the assholes remained optimistic.

I got toxic shock syndrome from your mens’ room, he tells the store manager and she says they don’t have a mens’ room and he leaves quietly.

These are they, lost in shadow, feeling gravity’s pull, and when they reach for light it is quickly snuffed, and the shadows are home again.

She called him and said, I’m wet, and he dropped the phone and hyperventilated, and died. She never got to tell him about the crazy weather.

My dearest friend. I loved you once. But I can love you no longer because you don’t love yourself. Or my little friend. Who’s not so little.