What do you do when your friend is dying?
You park your sister's car in the parking lot of a mall you've never been to
and sob into the Wendy's napkins kept inside the glove box.
That's a kind of sob that physically hurts, that makes your chest cave in and your hands shake uncontrollably and your mind questions if you could ever move on from this moment.
Later, you remember the way the orange Fanta haze hugged the mountain peaks before the stars were awake.
You get out of that car, and you don't look back.