Kace and Johnny, kids he hasn’t seen in years. They haven’t aged a bit. “Wait,” he calls out, pushing off the ground harder to pick up speed. “Watch this, you guys. Look!”
three times before it hits the concrete. Yes—
knee…
is, the rush of water in the pipes lulling him back to sleep. Then he’s outside the high school again, flipping the board despite the lingering ache in his knee. A half hour later and he’s out. Like a light, Richard would say. CJ doesn’t hear his lover come back upstairs to dress. He doesn’t smell the coffee in Richard’s mug, doesn’t hear the rustle of suits in the closet or the soft rumble of drawers as his lover gets ready for work. He doesn’t feel the bed shift when Richard sits down, or the hand that moves the blanket away from his face, or the lips that press to
