Snow

“I still like you. I don’t want you gone.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I don’t want to see you hurt. I want to see you feeling great…”
“Life just constantly feels like shit.”

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1. 11/18/16

The bench in the senior hallway.

“They won’t cancel it. We’ve gone at -35°.”

Snapchat from Noah. He’s on his way in.

People clamor around their lockers, puddles of water forming under long-standing offenders.

I don’t see him in the hallway, then again I rarely do.

The band trip to Duluth has been canceled, the band trip to Duluth has been canceled.

I kick the wall.

First block perseus.

 

Second block I stand in the band room, on the outside of a group of boys I call my percussionists.

Not all of them play the drums.

They all possess the appropriate attitude for the role.

No Noah yet, but the bell hasn't rang.

It rings.

Its loud.

We sit down.

He’s sorry that the bus can’t take us.

The snow is deep.

Duluth is a hill.

 

He calls the pizza place across the highway.

We stage a scene for when he gets back.

“One more chair! One more chair!”

Chris and Kalvin and Teddy and Trevor and Sven usher me into the practice room.

Two boxes from the pile.

A can of mountain dew for me.

 

One time we hid a pizza box above a ceiling tile.

They didn't find it until October.

 

“Hey Trevor, make a sex noise.”

 

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