sunshine (4)

Not for closure—closure was a myth invented to sell grief counseling—but for confirmation that the world hadn't just swallowed a boy and kept moving like it was normal.The bench creaked beneath her as a shadow passed. A tall man in his late twenties jogged by, earbuds in, sweat dampening his shirt. He looked nothing like Malcolm, but Eva still flinched, heart quickening. She hated that. That instinct to compare strangers to a ghost. Behind her, the trees rustled. A bird shrieked. She turned instinctively—and saw the boy. Not Malcolm. Not exactly. But similar. Too similar.

end of number 4.