Jackson plopped down on the seat next to me, covering the table with coloured pens. Art class.

The boy began scribbling.

I stopped working on my drawing of the bright blue ocean as my eyes averted. Jackson’s paper was a rainbow of colours that made no sense of structure. It excited me; making me want to scribble along and laugh until our eyes teared up and we forgot how to breathe.

Jackson looked up, and our eyes met.

‘I thought you were different.’ He said.

Different. What did he mean by that?

My eyebrows furrowed in thought as I turned away.

----------

‘No.’ Said a voice, a harsh whisper against the darkness of the room. Bed time. 7:30 pm.

I could see two figures sprawled out on one bed, limbs tangled in knots. I steadied my gaze, face tilting slightly to the left.

The figures moved, untangling themselves. ‘We can’t…’ A desperate voice. ‘I… I don’t want to anymore.’

‘Are you sure?’ Said another. There was a pause, then. The heavy silence engulfing the room, relishing its moment of power.

‘…Yes.’

The figures stayed there, for another moment; turning into stone, before one of the shadows made its way back towards the empty bed in the corner.