The word cancer is a frightening one, and you, my 12-year-old sister, had it. Your shitty vision was the result of a cancerous brain tumour forming on the pituitary gland, right by your eyes.
It is September and you’re 19 years old. You’re sobbing in an airport terminal – because you’re not sure you want to leave anymore – and filling in a survey about the quality of the facilities – because you just can’t say no to people. You’ll get better at both with time, I promise.
Cry…
It’s a special type of one-night stand. For a brief, shining moment, you’ve met your new best friend: the person you relate to more than anyone else on this earth. By the next morning, you’re halfway to your next destination and halfway to forgetting all about them. Maybe you add them on Facebook. After a…