“History is a set of lies agreed upon.” Napoleon Bonaparte

I turn to look at him, breathing in slowly. His head is bent down and his shoulders are hunched. He looks up, and freezes as he sees me watching. “Kyle,” I say. He flinches at the sound of my voice. “Kyle.” And then suddenly he disappears, and just like that, and I’m on my own. Alone staring at my reflection in the pool of water at my feet.