Danny's Pet Snail

Memories

     Danny sat in the dry, yellow grass. He held his hand out as his snail, Tim, inched his way onto it. Danny took a slow, raspy inhale, then he exhaled as he stood up, gathered his things, and faced me. "Ready?" He asked me, I picked up my bag and took one last sip of the water that I had gotten from the McDonald's we had been resting behind.

    The sun beat down on us as we walked past the tall office buildings and shops, the other pedestrians barely noticed us, which was to our advantage, especially when tears started welling up in Danny's eyes.

    I stared at him as the tears came faster and faster, I didn't know what he was crying about, but I tried to comfort him by wrapping my arm around his shoulder and rocking him. But that didn't make it better.

   I led him into an alley way, "What's going on? Are you okay?" I stammered, just then, I giant semi-truck rushed by, he started sobbing, throwing his hands over his face and screaming. He sunk against the brick wall, soaked in tears. I looked toward the street to see people gathering with entertained faces. I glare at them to make them keep walking. 

    I don't know what to do, so I just sit, waiting as Danny's sobs become softer. His heavy breathing replaces the screams, and eventually, he stands up, his hand stretched towards me, but his eyes on the dirty concrete ground. He managed to stutter, "Sorry, I just missed my brother."