brandon
Region: US
Tuesday 10 November 2026 04:18:52 GMT
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(っ◔◡◔)っ 💚 Bobbi 💚 :
Dally raised the gun, and I thought: You blasted fool. They don’t know you’re only bluffing. And even as the policemen’s guns spit fire into the night I knew that was what Dally wanted. He was jerked half around by the impact of the bullets, then slowly crumpled with a look of grim triumph on his face. He was dead before he hit the ground. But I knew that was what he wanted, even as the lot echoed with the cracks of shots, even as I begged silently—Please, not him . . . not him and Johnny both—I knew he would be dead, because Dally Winston wanted to be dead and he always got what he wanted.
2026-11-10 11:26:02
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(っ◔◡◔)っ 💚 Bobbi 💚 :
Johnny was dead. But he wasn’t. That still body back at the hospital wasn’t Johnny. Johnny was somewhere else— maybe asleep in the lot, or playing the pinball machine in the bowling alley, or sitting on the back steps of the church in Windrixville. I’d go home and walk by the lot and Johnny would be sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette, and maybe we’d lie on our backs and watch the stars. He isn’t dead I said to myself. He isn’t dead. And this time my dreaming worked, I convinced myself he wasn’t dead.
2026-11-10 11:25:30
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