I find Arrick in the garden on his own, sitting on a swing in the shadow of the trees under his childhood treehouse, lost in thought as he picks at the grass underneath him.

He looks crazy young, hanging from the seat to lean down, and it makes me hate how these past few weeks between us have been. It’s easy to forget all we are to each other when faced with all this bullshit. Watching him now reminds me of sitting here on summer days and laughing at his lame jokes. A happier time ...