olive: dear diary, i'm afraid i'm gravely ill. it is perhaps times like these that one reflects on things past. an article of clothing from when i was young. a green jacket. i walk with my father. a game we once played. pretend we're faeries. i'm a girl faerie. my name is laura lee. and you're a boy faerie. your name is tita lee. pretend, when we're faeries we fight each other, and i say "stop hitting me i'll die!" and you hit me again and i say, "now i have to die." and then you say, "but i'll miss you." and i say, "but i have to. and you'll have to wait a million years to see me again. and i'll be put in a box, and all i'll need is a tiny glass of water and lots of tiny pieces of pizza and the box will have wings like an airplane." and you'll ask, "where will it take you?" "home." i say.