if anyone who worked there was going to kill themselves successfully, it was going to be him. not because i ever thought he would, but if he tried, he would do it right. he did everything right. all the time. i am thinking back to times i cut myself on cardboard or glass or a razor - he'd break a cigarette open and cover the wound with tobacco. i didn't know why he did this, i didn't care, i trusted him. if you had a headache, he could massage it out of your body. and you wouldn't have to ask him to. fuck. he left a note. it was vague. no one understands. but i think i do.