He told me who traded snacks at lunch. He told me which spelling word he missed. He told me every detail of recess, even when nothing interesting had happened.
I loved that about him.
He still believed every thought deserved to be shared with me.
Until LAST Thursday.
That afternoon, I was waiting near the front steps when the bus turned onto our street. The sky was cloudy, and a cool wind pushed dry leaves across the lawn.
The bus slowed and stopped.
The door folded open with its usual mechanical groan.
Ethan stepped off the bus much more quietly than usual.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t even look at me.
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