and its stupidity and lack of sophistication could be plumbed for centuries,
but suffice it to say that the existence of broccoli does not in any way affect the taste of chocolate.)
“Yes,” I said. “A lovely thought.” I drove Augustus’s car home with Augustus riding shotgun.
He played me a couple songs he liked by a band called The Hectic Glow, and they were good songs,
but because I didn’t know them already, they weren’t as good to me as they were to him.
I kept glancing over at his leg, or the place where his leg had been, trying to imagine what the fake leg looked like.
I didn’t want to care about it, but I did a little. He probably cared about my oxygen.
Illness repulses. I’d learned that a long time ago, and I suspected Augustus had, too.
As I pulled up outside of my house, Augustus clicked the radio off.
The air thickened. He was probably thinking about kissing me, and I was definitely thinking about kissing him.
Wondering if I wanted to. I’d kissed boys, but it had been a while. Pre-Miracle.
I put the car in park and looked over at him. He really was beautiful.
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