a hand on a beach
- LECTURAS 379
- Votos 11
- Partes 1
I keep seeing him on my bed. Every time I walk into my room; he’s there, curled up on top of my floral bedspread, just like always. But unlike always, I don’t snap at him to get out and call him a baby. No. Instead I curl up right next to him and take his small body within my arms, hugging as hard as I dare.
And then I wake up, kiss his blonde locks and whisper that everything’s going to be okay. But as I climb out of bed and hold my hand out to him … He isn’t there. He’s never there.
Not anymore.
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