Tomorrow Always Comes

A girl stands on a street corner and everybody dies. Every second of every day, everybody dies. A million little deaths traced in the progress and the signs of our times. A million little deaths to remind everyone that they're still alive, probably. Every crushed dream is a death. As is every realized dream.

Her tattoo translates roughly to, "Dying is active / to die is passive." The way misanthropic college kids intend to earn their admission to hell, she intends for her death to be one final intense kinetic blip on hospital charts, those documents outlining the legitimacy of her final breath lest a grieving loved one contest that there should have been one more. I'm sorry, we did everything we could.

But so did she.