Rome didn't move.
He stayed where the darkness held him, just beyond the reach of the warm yellow light spilling from Sylvia's house. The glow stopped a few feet from where he stood, as if even the light knew not to cross that line.
Time stretched in strange ways, each second dragging painfully long. What remained in his hands were the flowers and the chocolates, gripped so tightly his fingers had gone numb.
Inside the house, children's laughter floated through the walls.
Rome's breath caught at the sound.
He should be happy that they were happy. He knew that. He told himself that again and again, but the truth sat heavier in his chest than any sense of relief ever could. He closed his eyes, but it didn't help. The laughter only echoed louder in his head.
