"I mean it," Dean says. "Good. I can't love you the most either."
Oh my god, this story. It's perfect and beautiful and painful and just a total suckerpunch. Every vignette is spot-on. I thought the doctor's office, with the forms and the regretful blue ink, was a particularly lovely blend of humor and pain. And this:
Black Sharpie scrawls across its surface, tells its history: here once was a venti soy hazelnut latte, extra hot. It's a drink so absurd that no one else has ever ordered it, or ever will. This is the last such cup in the world and there will never be another. Not ever.
no subject
Oh my god, this story. It's perfect and beautiful and painful and just a total suckerpunch. Every vignette is spot-on. I thought the doctor's office, with the forms and the regretful blue ink, was a particularly lovely blend of humor and pain. And this:
Black Sharpie scrawls across its surface, tells its history: here once was a venti soy hazelnut latte, extra hot.
It's a drink so absurd that no one else has ever ordered it, or ever will. This is the last such cup in the world and there will never be another. Not ever.
Oh Dean. Oh SAM. Oh boys. You break my heart.