But your car is warm. It's dry. Justin gets in, he's shivering. Maybe he's grateful for the warmth, maybe not, all that matters is he's this close. You can smell his skin, his hair, his breath. Anything can happen.
Didn't you? And I'd give anything to never have walked into that attic. Never looked down the barrel of his gun. So I could still believe that I'd live forever. Remember?
I do. Wintertime alone on the street learning to ride my bike. It's almost dark. I remember the wind in my face, and closing my eyes, and suddenly I'm flying. You don't hate them because they believe they'll live forever. You hate them because we once did, too.