Richard
I slam the door and storm to the window.
Anton is sitting on the stone outside the gate. He looks dishevelled with long dirty hair and faded dirty clothes. Five years and he's still a stinky little junkie wearing stinky little clothes.
I wish he showed up to my door, looking clean with a fresh hair cut and a nice suit that hides all those stupid tattoos. Maybe I would have opened the door for him. Maybe I would've welcomed him with warm and wide arms. Maybe I would've sat down on the sofa with him and offered him a cup of coffee. Maybe we would've talked about the past five years. And maybe I would've forgiven him for ghosting me.
When I broke the news about Roman's death to Anton, he flee from rehab and was never seen again. I looked under rocks and broke locks, trying to find
