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❛ Love is a losing game. Love can be a sham. I know of a fool, you see. For that fool is me! ❜
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DEAD POETS SOCIETY chapter thirteen
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THE DEAD POETS had reconvened for their next meeting the following Saturday. Light pooled into the cave from the afternoon sun as they settled into the dry ground of the cave. Meeks had brought down a few pipes he had taken from his dad on his last trip home and had smoked some pot Charlie had gotten from god knows where. Pitts, Charlie, and Meeks all lit up as the rest waited to bum a drag off them.
