a-accident. He's… not coming home, Dante."
His breath paused. The cold winter evening sunk its fangs into his exposed flesh. It held him down like weights where he could not budge from his spot. "He's… just in the hospital… right?"
She only stared at him, and he could read her expression, but everything in him hailed to think otherwise.
"He…"
"Please, come to the streets just past your house, your mother can explain." She held his hand in which he could feel her tremble.
No. No. Please.
"M-ma'am. I'll run ahead."
Mrs. Leroux nodded. Dante glanced at Mr. Fujiyama through the window, who was watching them from the counter. He tore his gaze and bolted.
He felt his stomach leap when his feet were unable to create friction with each step. He kept skidding and sliding, snow constantly being kicked up into his face. His bare hands slammed into walls and poles as he desperately tried to keep his balance upright while running. Fire seared through his palms as his nerves were exposed to the freezing air, but he didn't stop to think.