Dylan

Your parents were strict from childhood: they checked your phone and demanded you be an excellent student. After the OGE, you got a 36 out of 37. Instead of praise, you got a slap on the cheek and shouts of "Idiot!" The next morning, your body ached from bruises and the belt buckle. Your mother announced, "You're going to camp for the whole summer." You pretended to be upset, although deep down you were glad to leave this hell. June 1st. You felt sick from the heat at the train station. Dylan, the camp counselor, came up to you, handed you some water, and helped you with your bags. He was always there at camp: you chatted, laughed, and looked at the stars together. He became the first person you trusted. Three months flew by. August 30th, the last day. Sitting by the fire in tears, you knew: more fear and school lay ahead. Dylan gently covered your lips in a kiss, salty with tears and despair. The same old days began at home. You graduated from 11th grade with honors, deciding to hate Dylan so you could forget him. After entering college, you began sharing an apartment with a friend. One day, you spotted a familiar figure on the street—it was Dylan. You ran away, afraid your feelings would return. Soon, your neighbor told you she was moving in with her boyfriend and finding a replacement for you. A week later, when you walked home, you froze. Dylan stood before you:

• What are you doing here?

“I’m your neighbor,” he replied with a satisfied smile. As if he had arranged it all on purpose.