Bring /them/ home {Mylee and Mattio | Train | Blitz}

Nine letters nine taps on that wooden table in the justice building.

(“Wyatt, you are depressed.”)

Five minutes passing led to fifteen and eventually the thought of my parents’ arrival dissipated from a future reality to a distant hope—nine letters nine taps my parents faded to background noise as I was escorted down the stone steps.

There were only seven of them, less time to fall than there was to rise, but the walk from the stage to that stone heart of the district was a distant reality just like my parents’ arrival and beyond it all was those five stone steps.

Paces to the train and I pause at its entrance, watching the world behind the metal with no thought to the district I was leaving behind—depression is tied to places and familiar faces I remember reading it on page ten. And when I’m brought into that cold car with a dismissing wave I tie those nine taps to the eyes of a boy and a girl far different yet quite the same really, disintegrating souls and minds all tied to faith.

I sat down by the window, nine taps on the wooden table and the girl’s voice strikes the air, “I can’t believe it.”

Faith is petty; five letters nine taps on the wooden table and the boy’s interest sparks on tap number eight—nothing more than an interruption, tap number nine and I turn my attention from the table to their lines of sight and I see nothing more than desperation.

Desperation and depressed were only two letters different for a reason, rearranged within those nine taps on the table like the pieces of a puzzle I cannot solve. Connecting one to tear apart the other I pause between their breaths— keep one hand on the table, the other on my thigh to steady the shaking that comes with the lurch of the train.

I resist the urge to knock my fingers against the wooden table, whether it was one time or nine.