Dissociated 

Today I had coffee with a friend who has a brain tumour. Tomorrow he finds out if it’s growing or shrinking. Whether it’s going to kill him sooner or later. 

Mostly, I took the piss and made plans to go to Vegas if he has three months to live. He promised to get a facial tattoo under the worst case scenario; I said I’d drive the convertible through the desert with our mutual friend who knows about such things, and has done it before, and will only lead us into temptation. 

  

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