![]() ![]() I tug away from him, hoping for a text from Alis. The line moves, and Dad shifts us forward some. ![]() He hugs me tight, whispering assurances I want to believe. Dad clasps a hand on my shoulder, and I fall against him, losing the battle with my emotions. All I can do is stare at our picture, the both of us so fucking happy, and try desperately not to cry. Pain and despair are anchors on my feet, dragging me under and blinding me in an abyss of what-ifs. It was a selfie of us-both of us wearing snow gear, sunglasses, and huge matching grins. ![]() His last posted picture was when we were skiing at the resort. The line moves slowly, so I flip back over to Instagram. I can’t carry on like my heart didn’t just get up and leave. There’s no way I can go back to school next week without him. It’s only been days, and I miss him more than I thought possible. His teasing laughter when we watch Mubona Ikari together and I geek out on all the scenes. The way he becomes hyper-focused when working on a sculpture, ignoring everything and everyone around him. ![]()
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