i 'm not sure what to do about her bed sheets because they still smell like her , and i have no idea if her scent will do to sue what it 's doing to me , which is making me remember meg in such a real visceral way-sleepovers and dance parties and those talks we would have until three in the morning that would make us feel lousy the next day because we 'd slept like hell but also feel good because the talks were like blood transfusions , moments of realness and hope that were pinpricks of light in the dark fabric of small-town life .