Patrick

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     It had been a couple days since I met Patrick. I still didn't know if I could trust him, at least not entirely. We had never left that old workhouse, mainly because there was warmth here and freezing temperatures out there. We had also found crackers, apples, and water bottles in a no-longer-working fridge in the basement of the building, and we were getting by with those. Also, we had gotten lucky and found linens stacked up next to the fridge, and that's what we slept on. We entertained ourselves by wandering the various rooms or by tending to the fire - not that it could be considered entertaining, but that's the best we came up with. 

     We hadn't talked to each other a lot. We spent our time sitting in silence and thinking about what had happened no longer than a week ago. Sometimes he looked very sad, others very tired. Sometimes I would catch him glancing at me and he would look away. Sometimes I would see him standing by a window, staring out into the vast space, deep in thought. It made me wonder if he had had any close family, and if he ever thought about them.

     One day, I was sitting on a metal stool, my back resting on the wall, in the room where I had first met him. He was sitting by the fireplace, staring into the flames like he often did. He looks especially sad today, I noticed. Without really thinking, I slid off the stool and sat down next to him on the floor in front of the warm flames.

"Hey," I said. It felt weird to speak.

"Hey," he said, his eyes focused on the fire.  

"What do you think's out there?" I asked him softly. 

"Do you think I'm scared?" He snapped.

"What? No! I just- I just wanted to know what think...why do you keep looking out that window like there's anyone left?" I asked a little less softly.

          He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. He did that a lot. "I guess," he began, his voice calmer than before. "I know nothing's out there. I just-" He glanced at me and back to the flames. "Just hopeful that maybe my family's still alive."

           I paused before, "I wonder if my family's still alive too. Even though they're probably not, I have hope."

         "Well what if that hope, that feeling that- that they're okay, what if all that isn't true?" He said, his voice choked up with sadness. He turned his head to look at me and I could see the worry and sadness in his eyes.

          I didn't know what to say. I had been thinking the same thing, I had just been pushing it away in denial. I exhaled. "Look," I said. I scooted a bit closer to him and turned to face him. "I get it. I do. It's scary. It's hard. It's confusing. But we have to live through that. I'm scared too. But it never helps to go it alone. I'm here, and as long as you have me and I have you, we'll be okay."

He was looking a the ground by now.

"Okay?" I asked, looking into his eyes.

He blinked. "Okay," He said, managing a smile. 

I stood up and held out my hands. "Friends?"

His smile grew wider. He took my hands and I pulled him up. "Friends," he said.

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