Page 53 of Beautiful Terror

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Hey fag. Where are you?

The casual vulgarity of the exchange is infuriating. “Why is this your circle?” I snap, but he brushes it off with a nonchalant shrug.

When he disappears for hours again, I message Alice.

Me:

He’s in the sea or running on rocks or something. I don’t know.

Alice:

Sorry, that’s hilarious imagery.

"Hey, where’d Timmy go?"

"Oh, he’s in the sea."

I laugh, the absurdity of my life laid bare in her messages.

Alice:

He’s become a quest in a video game:

Find Timmy.

Hints: The Rocks, The Sea.

Deterrents: Unpredictable Behavior.

Me:

An enraged surfer angry about reality tv. Either in the sea or climbing a rock.

Alice:

Credit where it's due.

Me:

I looked at his phone just before and a drug dealer messaged him to say, ‘hey fag, where did you go?’ or something like that.

So I’ll see if he replies haha.

Alice:

Yeah, that's how I talk to my besties, too.

That's how you know our friends are quality.

Me:

Lmfao.

You are making me laugh, thank you.

Alice:

I clown with my friends, but I don't hurl slurs at them.