"Our best defense is distance. Six feet is the golden rule," she says, before bending over to pick up a pool cue from next to her bed. " This is five feet. Five. Feet." . . . She holds up the pool cue defiantly, fighting for every one of us. " I'm stealing three hundred and four point eight millimeters. Twelve whole inches. One freaking foot of space, distance, length" . . . "Cystic fibrosis will steal no more from me. From now on. I am the thief." If I'm going to die, I'd like to actually live first. - Will To be fair, though, anything can be optional if you're creative enough. - Will "Okay, okay. I'd like to travel the world and really get to see it, you know? Not just the inside of hospitals." He looks back down and keeps sketching. "They're kind of all the same. Same generic rooms. Same tile floors. Same sterile smell. I've been everywhere without actually seeing...
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