The sound of his palm slapping against the wood resounds in my head long after the room has stilled. We stand in that vacuum of time, our eyes locked in an unspoken battle until my heart begins to ache. “I don’t understand what’s happened to you … to the boy I used to know.” My confession slips quietly from my lips on a wisp of uncertain air. It’s a final plea that goes unanswered. “Life happened.” The arctic touch of his voice stings my skin.
Zeno leaves the room without another word. Tears sting at the back of my eyes for the second time in two days. This time, I’m able to use my anger to successfully ward off the threat, but I can still sense the emotion fighting for release. I say little more than a word the rest of the evening. Zeno is equally withdrawn, though his quiet nature make
