Summer flew in and out the window. Here then gone again, it flew away like a bird leaving the nest once it learned to fly.
Now, today is not yesterday and today I sit on the dock watching the gators swim far out. All of my family was gone, everyone had left years ago, 4 at the most. I haven't seen them since, I haven't wanted to either. They left like summer does; it's hot and steamy then it gets cold and the air crisps and burns your cheeks. It feels like the feeling of family leaving your side. I've been alone longer than I could stare out into the water. It feels like a normal thing now.
Though I had lived in a city, the city dazzled in the sunlight the same way that the water does while the sun is rising. Murder is what happened in that city, people went missing and no one would think anything of it. Not until someone said something in the paper or something had came up with the word "Murder" or "Suspect". Life was low and quiet because we lived in the fields of Georgia, hot and humid with hot rains.
I had a friend once, he loved the hot rains. His name was Tate. Tate and I were a lot alike until his name was written into the paper and labeled with Missing. I was surprised because he was my best friend growing up, but I also didn't feel bad. I was just glad my name wasn't written in the paper, not that I had anything to do with it of course.
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