"Like memories in cold decay, transmissions echoing away, far from the world of you and I, where oceans bleed into the sky..." ~Linkin Park
As I pass from the darkness of sleep into consiousness, I find myself wishing I could sleep forever, because today is the day that she leaves. California's a long way from Chicago.
I turn to the noise that woke me. My phone's buzzing on the floor. It's ten. Deuce is texting, can he come over? I tap out a sure, fingers slow and full of sleep. The phone vibrates again in my fist. He'll be here in five.
I tug a brush through my fiery curls, attempting to fix them a bit. There's not much I can really do.
"Flynn?" I call.
The empty apartment doesn't answer. He's at Henry's again. My oversized T-shirt makes it impossible to tell I'm wearing my favorite pair of pajama shorts, but I don't mind. Deuce won't either. He never does.
'Important case,' My mom's scrawl reads from the fridge. 'Had to go in early, staying late.'
She never signs her notes anymore.
I shovel down some cereal, soggy from milk. I'm halfway through my second bowl when I hear the knocks on the door. I swallow the remains of the bowl, wipe my milk moustache on the sleeve of my shirt, and shuffle to the door.
He's grown a bit over this summer, and it's almost over now, but he's able to look down on me. The inch advantage that he's never going to let go. We stand in silence a moment before his face cracks into a grin. I smile back and let him in.
I pour another bowl (I'm starving) and continue munching. He flicks on the TV to something mindless and we collapse on the couch.
It's eleven before I know it, then twelve and I'm getting dressed. He grabs a sandwich at twelve-thirty and at one we're out the door, heading upstairs to her apartment. Her flight leaves at three, and time's moving much too fast for me.