“My life is misery,” he yelled at me while I was staring at his vast array of shower bottles lined up perfectly, in ascending order from shampoo to body wash like little plastic babushka dolls. Everything was in perfect order, I thought to myself while washing my hands, glancing at the tubes of teeth whitener that resembled sterile stark syringes. I glanced at him through the doorway, “Then why don’t you change your life, do you want to say that everyday?"
"I do say that everyday you know that. I can’t quit now, it’s medical school.” I looked at his eyes, that were hidden behind a looming cloud of frustration but I still saw a light burning in them.
“You don’t have to be perfect you know. You can just say fuck it, you know? And we could just go travel.” I searched his face for something, and found a blank canvas.
“I think that all the time. But I can’t quit. I wouldn’t give this up for the world.” And he smiled at me, a sad perfect, white smile.