You were at your friend’s house, playing football in the street. It was a quiet street, with very few cars, and for that reason you adored it.
There were only two of you, kicking the ball back and forth, whilst talking.
“Isn’t Joe coming out today?” you asked.
“Nah, his dad’s not good.”
“He nearly died. And now there’s something wrong with his brain.”
“He was on the toilet, and he pushed too hard. My mum said he burst a blood vessel or something.”
He shrugged. “Whatever it is it’s not supposed to burst.”
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