Page 4 - My FlipBook

Things I'd Rather Do Than Die

h-oh. oes he notice my misty eyes I have got to ull
myself together.
e , I say, my fa e cheerfulness now erfected to
something of an art form. Everything e ce t that guy’s

elli tical. I’ll go wi e it down now.
ay, that’s too cheery. I sound downright eu horic
at the ros ect.
reat, tan says, win ing at me which confirms, to
my mortification, that, yes, he does notice my tears . I’ll
start loc ing u . hen we can both go home and get a good
night’s slee . ime and a half tomorrow, remember

eah, that ma es it totally cool to have to be bac at
on abor ay morning, I say, ho ing my sarcasm
douses his ity. I can ta e anything but ity.
s I wal from the counter toward the elli ticals, some-
one suddenly bursts through the door. I glance in the new-
comer’s direction, then roll my eyes and head bac for the
counter. tan never turns late-comers away, so it loo s li e
my wor day isn’t over after all.
I’m so sorry, the guy is saying breathlessly to tan

in a light outhern accent. It’s Ethan arrett. e’ve been
classmates since fourth grade that’s when I moved here,
to olliver, eorgia but we’re ust barely ac uaintances.
He’s a nice-enough guy, but his -list status means we
might as well inhabit se arate lanets.
I’d forgotten you guys close at si on undays, Ethan
continues, running his fingers through sun-strea ed hair.

ny chance I can s ueeze in a uic wor out wenty
minutes to s
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