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down.
                  “Like I said, dude, I’m sorry about what happened to Flo but I didn’t stop being afraid of you just because you guys got close. I stopped being afraid of you because you stopped threatening to break my nose.” This is true. “Anyhow, your mom was just worried about you.”
                  Was she now? Couldn’t take the time to call me herself?
                  River looks down at the ground, seeming to swallow something he doesn’t want to be let out. He holds his arms out like a sparrow.
                  “See you around Mal,” says the douche. I swallow the bitterness down. “Yeah, you too.”  I hop into my 1968 Camaro™. A Chevy™ that is super tricked out. The roof is down and I’m cold as hell but I don’t care to pull it up right now. Fuck I wish that the passenger seat still smelled like you Pretty Girl, and I know how creepy that sounds, but you know leather.
                  Everything just washes out.

   It’s Not His Fault - Flo
     
                  Okay, no I do not know anything about leather you douche canoe.
                  Have you seen my car, Mal? That thing wouldn’t know real leather if it chewed on the bumper while saying hello.
                  Yeah, I know that doesn’t make any sense. Move right along will you? By the way, I’m in the backseat in case you didn’t know. I chuckle and snort laughter, but of course you don’t know. I’m fucking invisible. You can’t feel me at all.  I sat in the middle where there isn’t a seat belt. Leaning forward so that I can watch your anger boil. I watch your knuckles turn white as you clench the steering wheel. The stereo is so loud.
                  Music always was your way of maintaining control.
                  “It’s not his fault you know?” I watched River slowly turning around, watching you with more kindness than pity. He felt bad leaving you upset but I could tell that he had no idea of what else to do.
                  “He was just trying to help.”
                  As are most people.
                  “He’s a good guy, shy and a little odd every once in a while but still kind when it counts. I also never thought he was into me just so you know. That’s not the kind of guy I attracted when I had a pulse, but still. It’s not his fault.  It’s not anyone’s fault aside from my own. I’m not going to blame you. I won’t. That’s not even in the realm of being possible.”
                  No way in hell. I look out the back window when Mal turns around to reverse because I can’t stand the thought of him looking right through me like I am not even here at all, which I’m not, but being reminded about it constantly still hurts like a bitch. I swallow. Mal parked his car between the lines for the first time since forever. He usually parks crooked. Like an asshole. God forbid anyone ding his vagina bait on wheels.
                  The minivan next to him is loaded with little girls in tutus. They all jump out without a care in the world.  I could have sworn that one of the little girls made actual eye contact with me but my imagination always did have a tendency to run wild. Oh, well.
                  “We should stop for food, I’m actually starving. That’s the funny thing about being dead. You stop feeling human and start feeling like some sort of alien but your stomach doesn’t quite get it.”
                  I rest my arms across my abdomen, sitting back. Mal pulls up to the exit of the parking lot and signals left, eyeing the right-hand side of the exit for any oncoming traffic. My stomach feels flat, as if nothing works inside of it. My organs have failed me by now I know.
                  I actually miss getting my period. How sad is that? I miss cramps. I miss the having