I can't move. I feel nothing. I just stand there looking at the body of my son. I remember the last time we saw each other. He said he will go to his friend. They would have a sleepover or a party or something, I don't know. I try to recall the last thing he said to me, but I don't remember. It was raining that night. I know that because I worried that he might get sick. I couldn't sleep that night. The police asked me if he had anything of value on him when he left the house. "Just 50€ I answered." The officer said that this was probably the reason he was killed. He never made it to his friend. He was found shot underneath a bridge. What kind of world is this where a young boy gets killed over 50£? That's not right. I Try to remember the last thing I said to him. I think it was something about his clothes. That he should wear something weather prove. I don't want these to be the last words I said to him. I lean down to his body. I hug him and I whisper in his ear: "Goodbye my beautiful child. I love you." Then I hear something, or maybe it was just me remembering what he said to me, but it felt like he says it right here: "I love you too. Goodbye Mom."
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Goodbye Mom
Short StoryYesterday I found a letter I wrote in a made-up alphabet when I was like eight... I really want to know what it says.