16E

He was seated. With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, he slid a blue backpack onto the floor and sat still, careful not to disturb his neighbors to the right or to the left. The lights dimmed, the noise in the crowded room increased, and having taken his place in 16E, he tried to drown a weeks' worth of anxiousness in a can of Cranberry-Apple juice. (Once again, he wondered just how did they always shape the ice in that little tube shape?)

He was wearing a plain gray hooded sweatshirt, ironically described as the closest thing he had to a dog. That sweatshirt from the sale rack at a grocery store went everywhere he travelled, was always comforting, never passed judgment, and had been present for most of the significant events of his life. He pulled the hood from his back so that the gray fabric almost covered his head, like a collegiate monk. All the emotion he had tried so hard to squelch or deny expressed itself in silent tears. No sobbing, no noise, just tears. And then more tears. And then yet more tears. Perhaps this time, they wouldn't stop. Being faithful once again, his gray hoodie sopped up the salty tears. In 16E, there was no one else to notice, or to wipe them away.

He thought back on the week, brimming with memories of birthdays and dancing and hockey and the ocean and ice cream and harbor seals and pizza and burritos and fireworks. He thought of friendships, and more importantly of friends. He remembered how they had become acquaintances, then friends, and now they were brothers. Brothers banded together by a struggle none of them had sought and few others understood, but yet one in which they continued to journey each day. In 16E, he was by himself, but he was not alone.

He considered himself wildly blessed for knowing those brothers. That idea naturally led him to ponder how much those brothers loved and believed in him, which made him cry all the more. He envisioned them standing behind him, cheering him on into the scary darkness. The tears returned, staining his face all over again. In 16E, in the dark of night somewhere in the vast sky, he loved them back.

He had finally gone west.