Before You Let Go
Messy hair falling near his eyes like he didn’t care if the world saw him clearly or not.
He was holding a sketchbook against his chest.
Alive.
Breathing.
Annoyed-looking.
So painfully, impossibly alive.
My eyes burned.
No.
No crying.
Not here. Not now. Not in front of the security guard who already looked like he wanted to ask why I was standing frozen near the gate like a lost statue.
Start with hello.
Death’s voice slid into my head.
I swallowed.
Okay.
Hello.
Simple. Normal. Human.
I could do hello.