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2:30 a.m.

I might not be able to save Paz.

I’m tempted to betray my promise and inform a server to call the police to detain Paz. I don’t want to hurt or kill Paz any

more than I want Paz to hurt or kill himself, but there’s only twenty minutes left before he’s held up his end of the deal

and he’ll be expecting me to do the same. I won’t have to if he’s sent to a medical facility to receive the proper help. I

obviously didn’t get far into that psychology book, but in the first few pages, Dr. Glasgow speaks about the importance of

not betraying the trust of a suicidal person. If I betray Paz’s trust, then he’ll be alive, but what kind of life will he

have if he only sees this world as one filled with liars and traitors?

This exercise has to work.

Paz is writing furiously, angry tears falling over the obituary before he slides it across the table. “There. That’s what

some asshole is gonna write about me.”

I pick up the obituary and rip it in half without reading a single word.

“What the hell?”

“I don’t care what strangers will say about you,” I say, hailing down an astronaut and getting another waiver. I flip that one to the back. “Here.”

“You want me to write my own?” Paz asks.

It’s not uncommon for Deckers to write their own obituaries so they can control what’s published about them, but I want Paz

to go deeper. “I want you to write the obituary that you would love for the world to read about you if you live to be one

hundred.”

“One hundred?!”

I hand Paz the pen. “If you’re not going to live it, I’d love to know what your dream life could’ve looked like.”