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It's late
when we get home.
I feel my pulse
quicken
as I think
about Jackson,
hoping he won't be too upset.

The house is quiet.
Dark.
Normal.

Mom and Dad go to bed.
I make a PB&J sandwich.

I wait for movement
or music
or mind messages.

But there's nothing.

I eat,
then go to my room.

My room is quiet.
Dark.
Normal.

I go to the bathroom, where
I stand at the mirror
long after I'm done
brushing and washing.

Finally, I go to bed,
wondering if he'll find me
in my dreams,
and sort of praying
he won't.

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