People have told me my entire life that I am old for my age. At school that meant I had nobody.
With her it meant we read the same things and argued about them, and she would remember something I had said three weeks earlier and come back to it.
Nobody had ever taken me seriously. Not once.
I told her how I felt in the March. She laughed for about a minute and then stopped, because she could see I meant it.
She said: “I’m dying. You do know that.”
And I said I knew.
And I proposed in the April with a ring made out of a sweet. The gummy sort, shaped like a ring.
I am a student on placement. I had eleven dollars and I was not going to pretend otherwise.
And she put it on. And she wore it.
And then she said the thing we argued about more than anything else.
