IRIS
It’s been days since I said goodbye to Darian.
No message, no knock, nothing.
I sit on the wooden porch, knees pulled close, fingers tracing cracks in the boards. The sky is pale, the wind whispering through pines. My heart feels hollow with worry.
I hear soft footsteps approaching behind me. Grandfather steps out quietly, in jeans and a worn sweater, carrying a firm but soft look. He claims a chair beside me and settles without a word.
“How are you doing, Iris?”
I keep my eyes forward, wind whipping at hair. I don’t answer.
He turns to me. His voice softer. “I know we’ve argued. But I need to know, are you holding up?”
I inhale sharply. “Why do you care?” My voice trembles.
His eyes flick downward. “Because I do. Whether or not you accept it, you are family. You
