“Don’t go out,” said the sole text I received from Caleb, among the seven missed calls I got from him.
To add, there are a total of fifty-eight missed calls, three answered calls, and one hundred twelve texts from various people, half I barely remember who. It’s like my birthday. Or Christmas, expect no one was greeting me. Only asking if I’m alright, where I am, what I’m doing, and if the news is true.
For the record, the news is indeed true, but the news shouldn’t be out. It’s not for the world to fuss about. I should be the one out there in the sun on the way to art school like a normal art student doing normal art school things.
“Just turn off your wi-fi, I’ll call you again later, okay?”
“I’m fine, Greg. You don’t have to.” Putting my most reassuring voice didn’t do too much t
