Friends, without benefitswe are not friends,friends don’t shareone heart, one mouth.and friends walk in parallel lines,brushing knuckles nothipbones and I keep wishingon the shooting starssplintering in your eyes for us to befriends but each time you sigh into my shoulderhow you need this, how you needme, somehow it almost seems enough,it almost seems like we are morethan friends but darling -we are not friends, not even closeand we are not more orless we justare.
Last Call for Tanner LeeTanner left the hospital feeling strangely empty. He had expected agony. From the moment he had heard the Code Blue declared over the intercom and been forced out of Leah’s room (Room 318; he would never forget that number, or the feel of the sheets beneath his hands), he had known his life was coming to an end. They did not give up, and he gave them credit for that, but there is only so much time and effort a doctor can put into saving someone who is determined to die, and twelve hours later, Tanner and the bag of Leah’s effects sat in the back of a cab, on their way home. He would have to plan a funeral. Of course she had no life insurance; she had only been eighteen, a grinning college freshman home for her first Christmas break.He sat at home that night and called her cell phone, letting it ring out at the foot of her bed for the sake of hearing her voice in the recording.Hey, it’s Leah. I can’t come to the phone right now, probably because I’m h