it's 2:40am, and even though aaron is cold, he decides he wants to open the window. the walk to across the floor feels miles long, and he's dragging his feet. he almost slips and bruises himself again. (he wishes he did, just to feel that bruise again.) there's a quick, fluid movement in the mirror beside him. he needs to be quick to let out the ghost, he wants to sleep soundly tonight. he reaches the window, and latches onto the lock. it almost cuts his fingers, it's so heavy, but he's able to open it. he pushes the window open, and he flies into the night. his oversized sweatshirt barely hides him from the cold wind; his crew socks weigh him down. there's a vacuum created under his curled arms, he soars toward the moonlight. and he's free, he whispers.
the ghost is out of the house, now.
