building with a known end

Walking to the group feels different. I want to run in the other direction. But Sunshine and Bell are walking with me. It matters to her. To my brother. So here I am, ashamed, and going anyway. My feet are visible, but the inkling to vanish dances on the tips of my toes.

“It’ll be okay. Everyone falls off the wagon.”

I know she tells me this to make me feel better, but it just makes me angry. She doesn’t get it. Soon she is going to be gone, so what does it matter really?

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J Dawson

J Dawson

Writes literary fiction with a speculative bent. A parent of teens. Accidental house flipper. Friend of cats and dogs. Kindness matters. ND Bi (she/they)