Lights off

Fading presence

I sit here staring at your picture, feeling a strange emptiness. It's hard to believe you just vanished. I reached out to everyone who knew you, but no one seems to have an answer.

I told my mom about you. Remember how you used to visit my house all the time? I said, "Grayson disappeared," and she looked at me with concern and said she didn't remember ever meeting you. I showed her your picture, and she insisted there was no one there.

But you were right there. Was I losing my mind? Were you just a figment of my imagination, a way to escape reality? I remember everything clearly—how come no one else does? They all saw you!

"Dear, wasn't Grayson... dead?" my mother asked, her voice almost detached. That's when I lost it.

"Sorry, but this has gone on long enough. You've been acting like he's still here for two years! We all pretended he was because you had a breakdown," she said calmly, but her words sent me into a panic. You were real to me. Was I just tired of pretending?

It's been five years now, and I'm still waiting for you to come back. I know you're gone, but a part of me still clings to the hope that one day, you'll return.