Literature
save it for another day
There was something magic in the way that he could take me places, do things with me, and sometimes I thought I was alive.
Hanna's extreme-over-the-top-mega-ultra-super-aliveness was contagious, it seemed. He could do things that nobody else could, jump farther, run faster, sing louder, it seemed. The thinness of his wrists gave him away sometimes, a little tremble, a wince before impact. Maybe he wasn't entirely superhuman.
He lived in the city, a forest in itself of neon signs and discarded newspapers. He breathed the city in and out, and its energy coursed through his veins, colored with the unmistakable tinge of decay. That was why