The Sanctuary Beyond the Undergrowth

His name is Keith.

I’ve written it in between each page in my notebook, on the desk in the corner of English, on my right palm, and underneath my uniform sleeve. Keith. I tasted his name on my tongue to see if it fit me well. Elouise and Keith. Elouise & Keith. Key-thuh.

I walked from Richard Day and listened to every conversation around me from the other girls, happening to hear that name over and over again. When I walked past the park, he was curled by a tree, his eyes closed and knees to his chest.

I stood by the fence and watched. His chest rose and fell. Sometimes he twitched, made a sour face, and shifted into a more comfortable position. Keith was a human being like me. On rainy days I’d sit next to him while he cried. He didn’t like when I touched him when he was at his lowest, so I just sat there and let him borrow my umbrella.

I asked him if he ever went home one of those usual days.

“I don’t have a home to go to,” he sniffed.

“Yes you do.”

His pale, wet eyes turned to me.

“This is your home.” I patted the bench and tried to smile. “Next to me.”

Keith hugged me and continued to cry.