When we got back to my parents’ house, we quietly snuck back in and up to my room. I opened up the bottom drawer of my desk, took out the small pocket knife, and handed it to Sean.
“You really kept it,” he ran his hands over the faded gold plating of the metal, “My grandfather used to get me a new pocket knife every year for my birthday,”
I know his grandfather is important to him and am happy he can get this knife back, “Now you have that one back,”
“No, this is yours. I want you to keep it,” he leaned over and kissed me. He set the knife down on the desk and pulled me into the bed next to him, “You have school in the morning, Laney,”
I know that seeing the knife brought back memories, and I wish I knew how they died but decide not to press him on it, “Goodnight,”
“Goodnight,”
