Elián;
I walk my loop alone for the first time today.
Mrs. Hanna says I'm ready. Zeph walked me to the corner anyway though. He pretended he needed milk, and I let him pretend.
Now the trees on our street are bare, black branches against a pale sky, and my breath comes out in clouds I can't blame on the weather.
I'm wearing Koda's gloves, Reed's scarf, with Leo's hand-warmers, still hot in my pockets.
They're all kind to me. Every one of them. Even strangers. I walk past houses, shops, bus stops, and it dawns on me that not one thing in this whole street is mine.
I've gotten good at hiding how out of place I feel here. I smile at breakfast, I say thank you, I do the dishes on Thursdays… Then I go to bed and lie there with my hand on my stomach, counting the kicks that don't come, and I whisper her a song I never learned the words to.
