Snow Is the Second Teardrop of a Lie

After finding out I wouldn't live past twenty-five, the childhood friend who used to fight me at every turn changed completely. He stopped competing with me for first place, stopped bickering, and even when I called him a dog like I always had, he just took it, eyes rimmed red. He watched sunrises with me, took me to see the aurora, filled the whole sky with sky lanterns for me, and with red eyes, in front of everyone, he said: