“He’s having a hard time in school again. I don’t know how to handle him,” I say, but you aren’t speaking to me. Cold and distant, you’ve turned your back.
“I need some help,” I plead, hoping to hear your words, wishing for some advice, but you left angry. Silence is my reward for having hurt you.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, trying to hold back tears, trying to be strong like you would want.
I stand, exhaling and steadying myself. I touch you as I walk away. Your cold granite skin is all that’s left for me to hold on to.