SAY IT NOW

**Say It Now**

*The last thing I said to my brother was "whatever." He died two days later.*

Eleven months after, I find a notebook under his guitar tabs - a list of things he meant to tell people before he ran out of time. My name is on it. So is a girl I've never heard of. So is an apology he never got to give.

This is a story about the words we save for later, believing later is a place we can always get to.

It isn't.