And it's the same world, honey, that made you feel so bad, as the one that makes you feel so good.
It doesn't bother me when Mr.Bryant leans on the overhead and hopes with a furrow of the brows that we got something out of his class, or when my first impulse is to go to my locker but I reach for a lock that isn't there. But when you say this could be the last time I see you and take a high-five (and two for the road), letting our hands hang there for a second in the air, Jesus, just take my lungs with you. Here, kidneys too. Don't forget the appendix. And once you've got the spleen, I suppose you could leave.