I lay on the frozen sand imagining myself dead: arms askew, mouth full of sand, eyes blank. […] The phone would ring at my parents’ house and my mother would answer. At first, she wouldn’t understand. Then she’d scream. Eventually she would call my father […] The news would ripple out through the small group of people who loved me and the larger group of people who just knew me.

— Sebastian Junger, In My Time of Dying, Simon & Schuster, p. 12, 2024