ok

“Hey sargent, even from when I was a kid, I’d wanna fall from tall buildings and keep falling and falling and just not even be freaked out because someone’s gonna catch me, ya know?”

“Do you really want that?” he asks. He’s got one hand slung around the railing, and the other waving to the passing cars. 

“I don’t know.” 

“I’m not sure–is what you mean?”

I glare at him, and my mother on the other side of the country laughs. 

“I just feel, like, really antsy is all.” 

“That’s all?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I look up. “Why are you asking me all these questions–stupid.” 

“Idiot.” 

“Sargent.”
“Yes.” 

“You know what my ‘OK’ means, right? Even when I don’t say OK in capital O-Ks, right?” I keep looking him in the eye even though he’s still waving at the passing cars. “You know who I am, right?”

“You exist, _____.”

Cool, that’s all.