It’s so sick, Duck said. I nicked myself shaving that last night at home, and I saw my own blood and I thought, How could I live in a world where this exists—where love can become death? Even if the doctor says we’re okay, how could we go on watching people die? Duck buried his face against Dirk’s shoulder and the streetlamp light shone in through the window, lighting up Duck’s hair. Dirk stroked Duck’s head. I don’t know. But we’ve got to be together, he said.
― Francesca Lia Block,
Weetzie Bat
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