all my love to ms. shira bolitar but if my teenage best friend/lover—who is an absolute smokeshow—cornered me in my kitchen hours after reuniting just to bestow a series of sweet, giggly kisses upon me and then invited me out to ice cream the next day with a text that said ‘don’t worry i brought a lactaid for you :)’ i would hustle my comically petite seattle lawyer ass and file divorce papers on her behalf so fast her head would spin









