His voice started and stopped with the raindrops
on the window. Aimless and hesitant, he gave up,
“I can’t seem to express the emptiness I feel.”
A silence ensued. The rain ceased. He paced wildly.
I searched for something to say– a magic phrase
that would make him okay– but a drowning man
can’t help another drowning man, so I spoke shallow,
“Don’t worry. You’ll be all right…
Things will get better.”
And sometimes they do, though I had no personal proof.
Sniffles from the dorm’s corner dampened distant rumbles
of thunder. Turning to me, he flashed a half-smile
that couldn’t conceal veins of lightning in his eyes.
A groundswell, held back valiantly,
had finally reached the shore. What I said next
didn’t matter– the kid who used to chase sunsets
on cloudy days was gone, his stuttered breaths fading
down the hall like a storm moving slowly across the plains.
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