Sometimes. It Was A Good Escape. Until,

There Was Something Striking About A Single Key. It Was Like A Question Waiting To Be Answered, A Whole Missing A Half. Useless On Its Own, Needing Something Else To Be Truly Defined.

For Two Hours I'd Felt Myself Stretching Tighter And Tighter, Like A Rubber Band Pulled To The Point Of Snapping. And Now, I Could Feel The Smaller, Weaker Part Of Myself Beginning To Fray, Tiny Bits Giving Way Before The Big Break.

It Took A Lot Of Work To Be Perfect.

You Can't Love Anyone That Way More Than Once In A Lifetime. It's Too Hard And It Hurts Too Much When It Ends. The First Boy Is Always The Hardest To Get Over, Haven. It's Just The Way The World Works.

I'd Heard Of Evergreen Care Center Before. Cass And I Had Always Made Fun Of The Stupid Ads They Ran On Tv, Featuring Some Dragged-out Woman With A Limp Perm And Big, Painted-on Circles Under Her Eyes, Downing Vodka And Sobbing Uncontrollably. "we Can't Heal You At Evergreen", The Very Somber Voiceover Said. "but We Can Help You To Heal Yourself." It Had Become Our Own Running Joke, Applicable To Almost Anything. "hey Cass, "i'd Say, "hand Me That Toothpaste." "caitlin," She'd Say, Her Voice Dark And Serious. "i Can't Hand You The Toothpaste. But I Can Help You Hand The Toothpaste To Yourself.