“I see ,” I said. “You have the key to the trunk.”

Angelo closed his mouth. “Yes, so I read her letters all the time. I think about her all the time.” He slid down the edge of the bowl and gazed into the soggy cereal. “Oh, Rosaline!”

I rested my hand beside him, my fingertips touching his curved, cold back. “I’m really sorry, Angelo.”

“This hurts so much,” he said. “I will definitely die from it soon.”