“Hi,” I said again.
“Are you crying, Hazel Grace?”
“Kind of?”
“Why?” he asked.
“‘Cause I’m just-I want to go to Amsterdam, and I want him to tell me what happens after the book is over, and I just don’t want my particular life, and also the sky is depressing me, and there is this old swing set out here that my dad made me when I was a kid.”
“I must see this old swing set of tears immediately,” he said. “I’ll be over in twenty minutes.”
Posted on Tuesday February 21st
