Josh never believed in anything. No God seemed worthy of his eternal love and attention. But that night, Josh got on his knees and prayed. He prayed that Tyler would come back to him. Even if his only option was to see an illusion of the boy that once was, that would be good enough.
When he fell asleep, he dreamed of the swing set no longer being so empty. He imagined a night where he would throw his bike against the oak tree and run to the swing, a boy wearing a white mask which only highlighted his big brown eyes, would make his way to the swing to Josh's left. They'd sit in silence and one of them would finally speak. The words like frost against a window in the early December, but it was smoking that last cigarette. Inhaling that cloud of gray smoke one last time and letting the chemicals eat through your lungs for the very time. It was needed and relief was what they both received.
Josh tossed and turned to either side, his arms extending to grab what he wished was Tyler but no matter how hard he grasped, there was nothing there. He was alone, completely alone.