The Boy in the Duct-Taped Shoes

He didn’t scream or throw things or ask why the world had taken his dad away.

Instead, he became quieter.
Smaller somehow.

Like he was trying not to take up too much space.

Sometimes I’d catch him sitting on his bedroom floor holding one of his father’s old T-shirts against his face.
Sometimes he would stand in front of the window at night waiting for headlights that would never pull into our driveway again.

But there was one thing he refused to let go of.