The one thing that plagued my thoughts and sat on the tip of my tongue was neither of those things. It was the one thing I knew I would never be able to tell him; that I was afraid of him dying too.
If he died, I would truly be alone again, and I couldn’t stand the thought.
The midnight sky haunted me. It whispered silently into my ears, whispered horrible things that could befall him. It tricked my eyes into conjuring visions of his death, visions of him lifeless in a coffin, being lowered into the heartless ground.
By the time the sun’s morning rays shone through me, my mind was in such a panic thoughts had become unthinkable. My eyes could no longer see. They remained closed, locking me into the empty darkness that engulfs my dead brain.
I heard Adam come and lie down beside me. I saw his arm beneath my legs, stretched out in the same position it always was. I forced myself to look up, to glance at him.
He looked the same way he always did, gazing at me through concerned, half-closed eyes. The bruise on his cheek had faded, more yellow and green than purple.
The sight of him was enough to banish the thoughts from my mind. He was here. He was alive. He was fine. There was no way he would die suddenly.
That day went on the same as always; he would talk to me, occasionally asking me questions which I would answer by spelling out words with the tablet. He no longer wrote down the letters I pointed to; after all, this had become a daily routine for us.
It wasn’t until the sun had set and he was packing up that something changed.
He paused with the tablet in his hand, half-in, half-out of his backpack. “Oh!” he exclaimed, looking up. “I might not be able to come here tomorrow.” he said, glancing at me. “We’re moving tomorrow and I’ll probably have to unpack everything.” Upon seeing the sudden look of panic on my face, he added “Don’t worry! I won’t be far. I’ll still be able to visit everyday once we’re settled in,” and smiled.
And with that, he left, jogging down the street in the same manner he always did.