We all miss you, Leonard Nimoy — you inspired generations of kids and adults, artists, scientists, dreamers, and misfits. And we all miss you.
I was wandering around the art gallery during my lunch break when a message buzzed through on my phone. I saw that it was from my friend Audra, and expected it to be a continuation of an earlier discussion about bullying. Instead, it said:
“Oh no Leonard Nimoy died!”
I stared crying. I tried to be secretive about it, breathing deeply and casually wiping the corners of my eyes over and over like not-crying people just casually do. The cry was rebellious, though. It wasn’t going to be a secret cry. It was going to be a cascading-over-my-lower-lashes, messy-eyeliner-splashing, tidal wave of a cry. There wasn’t a washroom in sight, so I sat down on a bench and tried to sob quietly until the worst of it had passed.
A security guard came over and asked me what was wrong. Probably she thought my house had burned down or my dog had been…
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