In My Eyes

Sometimes, I lay awake at night, not bothering to get up and close my window, though cold air is seeping out, and humidity is seeping in. So what if the cat jumps on the windowsill, and falling out, down three stories? So what if moths and spiders and centipedes crawl into my room? I have much more important things to think about, like how my best friend, Christofer's, mom died last year, and how his dad just... disappeared a month later.

Sometimes, when these thoughts come, I'll creep downstairs and watch him, snoring softly with the face of an angel, and think, “the poor kid. I'm glad he has my mom and I.” and very rarely, I'll wake him up to hug him, and tell him I love him, and when he's groggy and confused I'll whisper, “Shh, its okay. I'll find your father.”

I mean every word of it.