Matt Johnson

I couldn’t believe my eyes. We were all standing in the conference room. By we, I meant, Candice, her brother, Matt and myself. I haven’t left his side since he put me on the ground. God, I even cried. Mr. Black and Candice were awaiting explanation but I was too shocked to talk.

We were next-door neighbors and Matt was an ugly baby and an even uglier seven-year-old with a squeaky voice. I was an introvert with a loud family. My demons had started at the age of five so I kept to myself until this ugly little boy hit me with a baseball bat. Life has been good to him because, at fifteen, he broke apart like Cinderella at the stroke of twelve. His voice broke and became husky and deep. He lost the boyish look and became a man but he was no stranger. We stayed together throughout our school years and we made it until he had to leave.

“God, boy, a letter or a phone call would have been nice. What if I wasn’t at work today?” I asked him.