Numb

Will turns off the truck

and we sit in silence for a few moments.

Then he unbuckles

and looks at me.

"Let's go inside.

It's hot."

But I just sit there

in the intensified heat of the sun through the glass,

in the smothering smell of upholstery

and the minty, tree shaped air freshener hanging from the mirror,

under the incredible weight of the thought

that I just came home from my best friend's funeral.

And because of that incredible weight,

all I can really do

is sit there

in the heat and upholstery and minty freshness.

Will gets out,

turns around,

and stands there

by the open door,

watching me for a long while.

He frowns at me.

"Come on."

When I don't move

he walks around the front of the truck

and opens my door.

He says my name,

quietly first.

"Riley..."

"..."

So he says it again.

"RILEY."

He pats me on the shoulder

and shakes me gently.

I feel numb.

I can't feel him shaking me.

All I feel is cold.

I try to move.

But my legs won't do

what my mind is telling them to.

I don't know what to do.

I speak

because Will's forehead is creased,

and his eyes are concerned,

and his mouth is curved down

in a worried frown.

"I can't feel my legs."

He stares at me.

Then the corners of his mouth twitch

but he doesn't quite smile.

"Oh, Riley,"

he says softly.

And because he's that kind of friend,

he reaches over and unbuckles me,

gently picks me up in his arms,

and carries me into the house.

Author's Note

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