S H I L O H (a short story)

| D A Y T W E L V E |

On the twelfth day, Shiloh felt taboo. The sun was out and people were swarming the streets, light everywhere. He was out of his comfort zone.

He had found Hensley's mother in the telephone book after asking around and finding out her name eventually from the local pastor.

Her house was yellow with a bright blue door, very cheery.

He knocked and he waited and eventually there she was - Hensley's mom.

His hands were in nervous fists in his pockets and his hair was unruly.

"Is Hensley uh, here?" It felt weird speaking her name during the day. It felt wrong, everything about this felt wrong.

"And you are?" her eyebrow was raised like the one time Hensley had done it. She looked a lot like her.

"I'm her uh- friend. Shiloh." during the day he was Shiloh. This was normal.

But now it felt like Hensley laid claim to that name.

"Oh, she's in her room. It's up the stairs, the second door on the right."

When he arrived at her room he knocked twice before entering.

She was sleeping in her bed. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her fists were clenched.

He didn't say a word, and he didn't think about the trouble he may get in. He just climbed into bed, uncurled her fists, and laid with her.

He didn't think of anything but her warmth and her heartbeat. She was the most beautiful part of the day too.

One left...