He was always so full of life, his personality shined over all others. His heart and mind were as an open book, with new information rushing in every minute, with new stories to be created.
That was then.
I walked into the apartment, jamming the key in with all the force in my tired arm,using my shoulder to push it open, I tiredly threw my black messenger bag onto our ratty sofa, and walked into Nathaniel's bedroom, where the glow of his alarm clock, reading 11:53 PM, was the only light source in the room.
"Hey." I nonchalantly said as I sat at the edge of his bed. He returned with amuffled "Where've you been?” with his hands slowly bringing the covers over his head.
I ruffled his hair, like one would to a child, and rose from the bed, heading for the door.
He repeated his question, this time with more diction, but I still didn't answer.
He wasn't usually this persistent, when he actually did talk to me.
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