Thank you for being my brother.
He'd almost said it. Nearly had.
But the time for confessions had been stolen from us, just as he'd been from me.
To Simon, I had been significantly more than a friend. He'd loved me as a brother, and to me, he'd nearly earned that very title. We had almost acknowledged that we'd been more significant than friends, tethered closer than family, with a tangible bond running through our blood. But like the rest of my family, Simon had been taken away from me.
Alone in the home, I remained, with my knees against the splintering floor and the stale air filtering through my nostrils. I was a wreck inside, damaged and broken to the fibers of who I was. My heart, shattered, was missing the pieces of me Simon took with him.
