" Twenty minutes 'til 9, we're getting in the truck. I'm sweaty,
stinky and covered in red mud. I'm not sure what Logan smells
like and I don't plan on getting close enough to find out.
“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” he asks, as we
ride along the quiet, foggy, gravel road in the dark.
“Alive,” I say, thoughtlessly.
“I like that. Aim low,” he retorts. "

― , September, After Everything