It’s about another twenty minutes to our destination. I remain mostly silent, processing everything he’s just told me. He does, too, though his eyes trail over toward me for at least half of the ride. Thank God this road is so empty.
Finally, he pulls into a driveway of sorts that seems to pop up out of nowhere. It leads to a small, decaying cabin that looks long-abandoned.
“Come on,” he says, stepping out and leading me to the house.
He doesn’t enter it, though. Instead, he walks around the side of it, leading me to an old children’s playground in the backyard.
“I came here almost every day after school,” he tells me as he settles into one of the rusted, old swings. “I begged my parents to have another kid, but they didn’t think they could afford a second child, so I just… came out he
