9:15pm

'Dear diary, I'm afraid I'm gravely ill.

It is perhaps times like these that one reflects on things past. An article of clothing from when I was young. A green jacket. I walk with my father. A game we once played.

Pretend we're faeries. I'm a girl faerie. My name is Laura Lee. And you're a boy faerie. Your name is Tita Lee. Pretend, when we're faeries we fight each other, and I say

"Stop hitting me I'll die!" And you hit me again and I say,

"Now I have to die." And then you say,

"But I'll miss you." And I say,

"But I have to. And you'll have to wait a million years to see me again. And I'll be put in a box, and all I'll need is a tiny glass of water and lots of tiny pieces of pizza and the box will have wings like an airplane." And you'll ask,

"Where will it take you?"

"Home." I say. '
-Olive Cotard