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KIERAN
For about two hours now, I’ve been sitting on Mateo’s front-step, waiting for his parents to come home. Every time I hear someone walk by, my head snaps up in a wide-eyed panic, before I remember that Mateo doesn’t live here anymore. That starts the whole cycle of misery again until I distract myself with some crappy ad-filled game.
I go back and forth with that and with my conversation with Lucas on Instagram – he’s trying to organise details for this weekend, and I’m being spectacularly unhelpful. Not by choice, mind you, simply because someone else will walk by and my attention will be broken once more. I think we settle on a time, and I’m pretty sure he&r
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