the kind that would fit right into me when she leans back.

but i dont tell her this.

shes slightly taller than me. which isnt saying much, because most people are.

and i dont realize it until she is standing in front of me. with her hand out, putting something in my hair, or punching my shoulder. until she is standing in front of me and i am avoiding her eyes.

my stomach is hurting again. it has me worried. but not to the point of doing anything about it, other than mentioning it passing.

i got offered a job today. at a gun store. the man asked me if i knew anything about guns. that he could use a good salesman there.

i told him i didnt, but if he wanted to teach me, i would be there.

i think i am fictional to a lot of people. larger than life. pushed to a position im not sure im fit to hold.

not only here. but in real life, too.

i know, once this summer ends, i'll probably fall out of some peoples lives.

but theyll look back. and they'll remember me.

as that kid who bought the whole place ice cream one night. as the kid who took them back to chuck e cheese when they hadnt been in years.

the kid who created straw bridges

but only one might know about my sister. about my grandfather.

about me.

so ill become a story.

which i dont really want to be.