I blow my mum a kiss in the dark.
An ache brews beneath my ribs, knowing that I will likely never see her again.
I'm sorry, the note says.I promise I'll write. Love you, Ma.
Folding the piece of paper, I hide it inside her favourite coffee mug.
The one with the daffodils.
Then I ease the front door open and shut with both hands.
I control the latch so it won’t click too loudly.
Running along the driveway, I stick close to the edge.
A padded rustle on dry grass is more stealthy than shoes on gravel.
Reaching the mailbox, I turn to check the windows one last time.
I brace myself, half expecting to see a bearded face looming above me.
But I’m alone.
Alone in every sense of the word.
For better or worse.
Lungs burning in the damp night air, I focus on the sound of my breath.
The crickets along the fence line.
The thud of my sneakers pounding against the road.
Heavy backpack thumping against my spine.
I can feel the tight bloom of pain along my ribs if I take a full breath.
It’s like something has been cinched around my chest.
The cut on my lip is crusted and tender.
A wound that opens if I stretch my mouth too wide.
There’s a ringing in my ear that comes and goes in waves.
One bloodshot eye is already bruising thick and heavy with colour.
But none of this is new to me.
The only thing that’s different this time, is my decision to stay gone.
To actually do it this time.
To walk all the way if I have to.
???
The first time I attempted it, my six year old legs gave out in the heat.
