The hallway of the school was empty, as it should be. I walked to my locker and put my bag in it. Hanging from one of the built in hooks, was his hoodie. I hadn't worn it in so long. I reached out to feel the cotton on my fingertips, trying to imagine that I was holding onto his elbow again. Just before they touched the fabric, I pull back. No. I can't do it. I can't go back to that.

I slam the locker shut and run. But it's no use running from the past. It always makes it's way back to you. Especially when you can't run far.

I pushed open the doors and am greeted to some rare Washington sunlight. The sun feels so familiar on my skin, like an old friend I haven't seen in a long time. I stood there for a minute and just soaked it up. I crossed the street and walked, letting my feet guide me. It didn't take long to find myself at the old playground.

The playground was part of the original city that was here before us. When the designers came to examine it, they thought it would make an excellent tribute to what they were going to tear down anywhere else. When the new city went up, the visitation rate went down. Now it's deserted, no one comes here but the stoners and the lonely. Guess which category I fit into.