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Pick
someone
special
to
you
,
tonight
.
Marla
's
cigarette
hands
are
pinned
to
her
waist
.
Tell
this
someone
how
you
feel
.
Marla
does
n't
have
testicular
cancer
.
Marla
does
n't
have
tuberculosis
.
She
is
n't
dying
.
Okay
in
that
brainy
brain-food
philosophy
way
,
we
're
all
dying
,
but
Marla
is
n't
dying
the
way
Chloe
was
dying
.
The
cue
comes
,
share
yourself
.
So
,
Marla
,
how
do
you
like
them
apples
?
Share
yourself
completely
.
So
,
Marla
,
get
out
.
Get
out
.
Get
out
.
Go
ahead
and
cry
if
you
have
to
.
Marla
stares
up
at
me
.
Her
eyes
are
brown
.
Her
earlobes
pucker
around
earring
holes
,
no
earrings
.
Her
chapped
lips
are
frosted
with
dead
skin
.
