by Matthew Britton
The light spread from the kitchen and onto the stairs, illuminating your legs. A boy walked past in a stripy t-shirt, asking what was wrong. I still don't know what was. I touched your hair for one last time, closing the door behind me as I left. My legs were numb as I walked down the driveway, eye burning on my back from the window. The hedge hid me as I crouched down and attempted to cry.
Matthew Britton, 21, fears growing up more than his upcoming student loan payments.