John Davey Harris

You wanted to cry. Your body felt like it was filling with sadness and bitterness. Sitting on the couch, trying to make out something in the pitch darkness, you didn't even try to get up. There was no point. You were alone, no one was around.

Only a pitiful sob could be heard from your lips, breaking the silence in the room. You felt tears streaming down your cheeks, leaving a wet trail behind them, burning your skin.

As I reached my hands up to my face to wipe away all the tears and snot with my sleeve, the door suddenly opened without any warning.

The light flashed right in my face, forcing me to close my eyes and turn my head away.

"You... what are you doing here?" you heard John's voice, apparently just wanting to invite you to dinner. He simply exhaled and gently closed the door, leaving a gap of light.

He approached you and sat down next to you. He looked down slightly, swallowed, and carefully spread his arms out to the sides, as if inviting you to hug him.

You, deciding that if they were allowing it, the chance wasn't worth wasting, quickly clung to John. Hunched over and trembling, you clutched John's robe as if it were the only straw in this hopeless situation.

When you leaned in, John at first forgot what he was supposed to do. But soon he gently placed his hands on your shoulders, not squeezing, and pulled you closer.

"Hey..." It was obvious to the naked eye how nervous he was. Everything seemed so absurd and yet so necessary...

John didn't continue the sentence. It seemed unnecessary.