The Moth

Chapter Forty-Four: Rooftops// Fragments of Lyon

Chapter Forty-Four: Rooftops// Fragments of Lyon

I turned the key in the lock and tested the doorknob again. This time it clicked and swung open easily. I flicked on the lights, revealing an empty room with one twin bed frame in the corner, stripped of everything save the bare mattress. One small window sat on the far right corner of the room, letting in an orange tint from the lamppost outside. It smelled musty and I coughed, covering my nose. I'd moved in almost a year ago. Drew and Ricky were here a few months before me. Even assuming someone had this bedroom before I'd moved in, it was still empty for a year. And four, since Cecilia left.

It was clean and the walls were spotless, covered in light pink wallpaper filled with tiny flowers. I ran my hands along the walls, feeling the rough texture of the wall underneath the smooth wallpaper. It was slightly sticky from the settled dust and my lip curled watching it collect under my fingers.

She stayed here. Lyon stayed here.

Lyon.

A strange feeling started in my stomach, a subtle nagging like I was the one out of place.

But I live here...

My fingers felt an abnormal pitted section of the wall near my waist and I stopped, biting my lip. I felt around for the edges of the wallpaper, slipping it under my fingernails and pulling it off. It ripped off easily and I let it fall to the floor.

There.

I pulled at the wallpaper a bit more, revealing a sharp engraved corner that extended downwards back under the wallpaper. I clicked my tongue and kept tearing it off.

There.

A drawing as big as my hand was carved into the wall. Two gridded squares connected by a line with a smaller, simpler square in the middle.

The satellite.

I traced the jagged edges of the carving with my fingers. Lyon did this.

It finally struck me that this boy was real. I'd heard Cecilia talk about him, and now Drew as well. But there was a different feeling of realization when I saw his work. He wasn't just a conversation topic, this abstract figure, a far away boy whose life had been cut short. A boy I'd never know. This. This was evidence he existed. That he made a mark before he left. And not just in the hearts of those who loved him.

I sat down and studied the lines of the satellite. Off in the corner, a couple inches away was a smaller, lighter carving of a heart. I pursed my lips and smiled tightly.

If we ever got a new roommate... they'd set their stuff down and decorate this room however they wanted. But the carving would still be there. Carved by a dead boy they'd never know or think twice about.

The horizontal traffic light on Mason was changed because a boy died there. Another slight change that no one would notice if they didn't know his story. Another story tacked on to the list of so many others when adults warned kids about reckless driving.

Lyon.

Now just reduced to fragments in a system that kept going without him.

Fragments of a boy that once lived here. Too bad all they spoke to was his death.