It was a happy afternoon. He cooked, we shared stories and jokes, we listened to music. By habit and by nature, he ended up with food for more than two people. Instead of shrugging it away with “All the better, we’ll have leftovers,” we called up some friends and invited them over for dinner.
“I’m just going out the get juice,” he said. We were both excited that people are on their way over. I was sitting on the couch, watching him put on his shoes. Then he leaned against the door frame, smiled widely, and said, “Take my picture!”
I took my phone and snapped a picture. The next moment, the door was already closing behind him.
One hour later, I was sitting by the kitchen window. It was dark outside by now and I was desperately looking at the black silhouettes of people, hoping one of them was him. He had left his phone on the table, something he’s prone to do if he goes out just for a quick errand. Soon I saw the seven friends we had invited. My hope…
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