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A story by Holly Gramazio

“Nothing lasts for ever,” Lewis says, and watches a fat pigeon as it hops. “It’s like, sometimes three seasons is enough, you know?”

Abigail doesn’t look up. “This is a friend-dump, right?” she says, finally.


“It’s okay if it is.”

“No, of course not. It’s not that. I was just wondering if,” and he trails off. The pigeon compresses each time it lands, like a beach ball. “When you think you might stop playing Drop7.” Even for an hour. It’s been weeks. He’s worried.

“You shut the fuck up about Drop7, pigeon boy,” she says, and touches Play Again.