Yes, Sir | DNF | Dreamnotfound | COMPLETED VERSION

I: Prologue

Clay shuffles up to the house, watching as a burly man carries two large boxes out of the front door. In thick Sharpie marker, the boxes are labeled beneath the tape securing them shut.

George's Toys

George's Books

The ten year old nibbles on his wobbling lip, twisting the hem of his shirt around his finger.

A dark-haired woman exits the house, rolling a suitcase toward the sleek silver SUV. She pauses, eyes meeting Clay's.

"Clay, honey, is that you?" She puts a hand over her eyes, shielding them from the glaring sun so she can get a better look.

Clay nods, shifting his weight nervously between his feet as if the pavement beneath him is burning through his sneakers.

"Come here," She opens up her arms, welcoming Clay to hug her.

Clay rushes forward, hugging her tightly. Tears slip from his eyes as he squeezes them shut.

"I'm going to miss you," She whispers. "You know that?"

Clay can feel hot tears slide down his cheeks. His jaw feels tight as his throat swells.

"Let me go grab George for you," She pulls away, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You both can go play before we go."

The boy wipes his face, watching George's mother walk back into the house. Clay can't stand to see the inside of the house. It's so empty now. Just a hollow shell that was once filled with beautiful memories.

The door reopens, and a short, dark haired boy emerges. He looks sadder than Clay, and that's a difficult task. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks are red.

"Hi, Clay," He mumbles.

"Hi, George," Clay mutters.

George sways slightly, and Clay's teeth find his bottom lip again, nibbling at the skin. The ten year old boys always know what to say and what to do, there's never a silent moment between them. But here they are, baking in the summer sun, quiet and emotional.

"Mom said I have enough time to go play at the playground before we leave."

Clay nods. "Okay."

The two start walking down the street, away from the moving trucks and the emptying house. The birds chirping and the lawnmowers humming fill the void of silence between them.

They approach the community playground, where kids are already happily chasing one another around the structures. One friend group is sitting at the top of the slide, probably chatting about whose house they'll sleep over at tonight. Another group is on the swing sets, kicking their tiny legs as hard as they can to get higher than their friends.

Clay feels his lip start to wobble again, reminded that his playmate won't be able to do any of those things with him anymore. "I don't wanna play."

George deflates. "Me neither."

Clay sinks onto the sidewalk, blinking back tears. "I don't want you do go."

George sits down next to him. "I don't want to go either."

"Do you think your mom would let you live with me?"

"I've already asked," George pulls his legs to his chest, a tear falling onto his knee. "She said no."

"Maybe I can go live with you," Clay mumbles.

"You need a passport," George looks over with sad eyes. "And they take forever to get here."

Clay feels hopeless. He's losing his best friend and there's nothing he can do about it. George and him already tried convincing George's dad to not take the job opportunity in London, but their efforts were in vain.

And now they sit crying on the sidewalk where they once drew happily with chalk, and next to the playground where they use to play tag and trade Pokémon cards.

"You won't forget me, right?" George asks.

Clay shakes his head. "I couldn't forget you. You're my bestest friend, George."

"And you won't find anyone else to replace me?"

"No way."

"Good," George whispers. "I won't forget you either."