Diana T. Scott

He's just... mean. Or gay.No, he's not gay. I asked...Mean it is, then.

He was really trying to be my friend, without all the emotional baggage we both carried - mine still with me, but carefully folded in vacuum bags so they'd occupy as little room as possible and his, hangin on his shoulders like lead armor, making him slouch sometimes. And yet, as pinned down as he was, he was the one comforting me, supporting not only his weight but mine, too. It wasn't fair.

,,So maybe, for me, home is not the city, but the people.