Stay -2005- May 2026

You look at the house. At the dented mailbox. At the porch light that’s been flickering since you were both twelve. Stay , you want to say. Just stay. We can figure it out. We can sleep in my basement. We can get jobs at the mall. We can—

He writes it on a torn piece of notebook paper. The same paper you’ve passed notes on in Mr. Hendricks’s history class. Do you like me? Check yes or no.

He reverses out of the driveway. The gravel spits. He gives you one last look through the rear window. A half-smile. Then he turns the corner, and the taillights disappear into the bruised-purple dusk. Stay -2005-

You flip it open.

“You’re really leaving?” you ask, even though you know the answer. The U-Haul is already half-packed. A futon mattress leans against a cardboard box marked KITCHEN – FRAGILE . You look at the house

Cole shrugs, that easy, infuriating shrug. “Start of senior year. My dad got the transfer. Phoenix.”

Then: never.

“Yeah. That’s the point.” He kicks a loose pebble. It skitters under the U-Haul. “No memories there.”