Lie With Me

For a long time, I tried to write down words about his disappearance. I found a lot. I even classified them in alphabetical order, if you want to know: “abandonment,” “absence,” “death,” “departure,” “dissolution,” “erasure,” “escape,” “extinction,” “flight,” “loss,” “retreat,” “vanishing,” “withdrawal,”—the other ones I forgot.

The rain continues to pound against the roof of the shed. We are alone in the world. I’ve never enjoyed the rain so much.

When Thomas disappears around the corner of the gym, I am seven years old again.