You took everything off the walls. The glow stars too, the ones we stuck up crooked so the Big Dipper leans. There are little green ghosts of them left on the ceiling, but you can only see them in the dark, and you don't lie in the dark and look up anymore.
The tape left marks where the map of the treasure island was. You promised we would go there. Maybe you still will.
There's a box that says MISC in your handwriting, which is neater now, kind of boring. You put the trophy in there without looking at it. I would have held it up first. It's the swimming one. We were so fast.
You keep checking your phone and sighing and looking at the walls like you want to be done. But you stopped at the windowsill. You picked up the rock. The gray one with the stripe that we found by the creek and decided was the most important rock in the world. You held it for a long time.
Then you put it in your pocket, not the box.
You're taking the rock.
Where we're going, are you going to put it somewhere you can see it?