It’s been a while since Callie and I have sat like this. We’re on the porch, and she’s holding my hand, and my head is in her lap. My tears are staining her skirt, and she’s probably looking down at me wondering what happened.
But I can’t tell her. I can’t bring myself to whispers the words that will no doubt fall into existence and then exist, because words like the ones I’m thinking have a lot of power in this world. Sentences like the one that has circled my brain for days on end tend to make mountains crumble into piles of stones and oceans evaporate into nothing.
He’s gone, he left, I don’t know what to do—
I don’t know how to say it so that Callie won’t melt into an ocean of her own tears. My world has already slid off of its axis, and she’s the anchor that is holding there, before it’ll fall off completely.
But the word slip out of my mouth, and we sit on my porch in the sunlight while the clouds bring rain through our minds.