Mr. Wilson can hardly be unaware that once a writer chooses to youthen or resurrect a word, it lives again.
He nods, time traveling to a point when there were no central lines, no low blood counts, no immunosuppressive drugs. His face youthens momentarily as he bridges back to a point on a timeline that has none of this devastation on it.
... And then when I finally went they were like, you might as ...
... how are you doing?" She's, like, "I'm doing good." And then her parents update you. ...