Page 50 - What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours

man who drove the needles in deeper. Not with a hammer, but with his hands,

for the thrill of joining his own torture to hers. Luckily, luckily the bad man
managed to bleed out before he could kill her—it turned out his bones were
magnetic(?). I might have misunderstood that part of the song, but whatever it
was about his bones, they drew the needles from her and into him, he died in the
utmost agony, the end. I kept waiting for Füst to wink, but he didn’t.
“My favorite thing about this song is the way it starts out all about her and
ends up all about him,” Noor said, as we refreshed the page and fat red love

hearts accumulated in the comments beneath the video.

Matyas understands

This is exactly how I’m feeling today

Thank you Matyas

Think we can all agree he shouldn’t have done it in the first place but now he’s done the
decent thing

We forgive u

All I could say was: “Amazing.”
How did it go from “Füst should apologize to the woman he beat up” to “Füst
should apologize to his fiancée” to “Füst should apologize to us”?
Aisha spoke through the stress ball she’d stuffed into her mouth, removed it,
and started again: “Maybe this is a piece of conceptual art? Like something out
of one of Matyas’s favorite films. Couldn’t YouTube woman be an artist who’s

worked out a concept that uses the media to show us something about fame and
its . . . its magic touch? So what if that touch is a punch? She’s famous now.
Maybe she’s trying to get us thinking about the different ways people get
famous. By excelling at something, or by suffering publicly. Maybe what that
eyewitness saw was a performance? What if she already had an agreement with
Matyas that he would beat her up for the concept? Doesn’t it seem like there’s

no way to avoid getting punched by someone or other? Doesn’t matter who you
are, it’s just a fact of life. So isn’t it a little better if you get to choose who
punches you? You know, I think if I could pick I would have chosen him too.”
She was doing well until Noor, who’d stopped me from countering every
single one of her speculations, said: “Ah, darling. Would you?” Then she buried
her head in her dad’s jumper and howled. We couldn’t tell if it was heartbreak,