his arms, as a toddler with my little hand lost in his, and one from last year. I’m
shirtless and dripping with pool water as he draws me under his arm and beams
with pride after my swim meet. I gingerly slide the drawer open and remove his
gun, before slipping out of the room.
In the fire, the books have nearly stopped burning, but the remaining
warmth from the embers meets me at the door. I’ve known where I’ve intended
to go for a while, but didn’t expect to go there tonight. I just thought it was a
dream that only came to life beneath my bed sheets. Maybe, though, that’s
where I’ve been all along, and when I open my eyes I’ll see the bed sheets holding
me still, my Dad asleep in the next room and the TV glowing in the dark.
Instead, when I open them, I see books burning in the fire. In a way, the
outside of the house has changed too. I remember being proud of having the
one house in the neighborhood with woo