we’ll be together when you’re over this

On the last day he spoke to her, right before he’d blocked her number without even feeling like a snotty bitch about it, Hal stumbled home on the subway, looking the perfect part of a junky. His spirits were low and he was too sick to care at that point, but he sustained for years the image of her at his bedside: tucking his hair behind his ear, cleaning up his vomit, rubbing knots out of his shoulder blades. In that image she said the same thing over and over: We’ll be together when you’re over this. We’ll be together when you’re over this,

we’ll be together when you’re over this

We’ll Be Together When You’re Over This