Molly Wiseman

The Ignoring Game

David’s room is like a home to me. Every inch of the place has been marked with memories that he and I had together. The walls are covered with pictures he drew. I stare up at each one, smiling. I watched David draw them himself, and I critiqued each one as he taped them to the wall. Of course, I always told him that his works in crayon were the best I had ever seen. They splatter the room’s gray walls with color, lighting up the room with their joy. My favorite drawing of his was hanging above his bed. It’s a crayon sketch of both of us with our arms around each other and red, curled lines representing our smiles. In childish handwriting above David wrote Me and Buzz.