All the Stars in the Sky

The heart. It’s like a lizard’s tail. I read once that when the tail regenerates it’s never an exact replica, but it’s a tail nonetheless.

I let my last bit of hope float up to the stars. It’s not so bad. I don’t know why I didn’t give up a year ago, a few months ago. Next world or not, I’m done with this one. I’m done with this body that has always been mine to give and no longer feels like it belongs to me.

I don’t know why I thought saving my tears for Alaska was a good idea. It was stupid as fuck. There’s no point in saving things for later if later never comes.

You suck at crying, anyway,” I say. “Five tears and you’re done? I could’ve stretched that out for twenty minutes, at least.

I told you I’d make you caramel sauce one day.” And I told you I’d love you forever if you did, I don’t say back. I’m sure he doesn’t remember.

So many people are gone that I can’t even mourn them properly. It would take every hour of every day to do it. I want to hold on to them, to think of them, but I would never get any living done if I gave them all the time they deserve. Especially now, when we’re barely living as it is—barely surviving. I hug Ana’s bag to my chest and sob. I cry over the things in my dead friend’s bag and for all the things we’ve lost so far. I don’t know why I thought saving my tears for Alaska was a good idea. It was stupid as fuck. There’s no point in saving things for later if later never comes.

Love you,” Bits says. “More than all the poop in the toilet?” I ask. Peter heaves a sigh. But you’ve got to play to your audience, and my audience is amused by potty words. It sends her into a coughing spell, but she’s smiling. I wanted that to be the last thing I saw.

You have a good smell.” “I have a smell? What kind of smell? It’s not like sauerkraut or anything, is it?” “No, it’s—” he thinks for a moment, “like something green.” “Like what kind of green? Frogs? Mold?” He knows I’m messing with him, and he exhales noisily. “You know what I mean, Cassandra. Green. Leaves, cut grass, herbs. But a sweet green.

You’re staying here tomorrow.” I sit up and cross my arms. “Don’t even try it. I’m going.” “You can’t go with a fever.” “Why? Do the zombies have a rule that you have to be fever-free for twenty-four hours before you can visit?” “Jesus