"Dave are you okay?" John asked me, eyes widening, looking into my crimson ones, "You can stop looking in the box."
I stared at what was inside longer.
"Please Dave...you're scaring me." He tried to take the box away.
"No!" I snapped, letting myself take in each detail, "Stop it. This is important."
It was his gloves, hat, and underneath it all: a journal I have never seen before.
What did I expect?
John was staring at me; I was staring in the box.
It reminded me of what happened at back then when I was first "sorted out" by the social workers. How I was alone in the apartment for a while, packing away what I wanted while looking for a reason or things Bro hid. Not this. I couldn't find what this...journal was?
"I think I gotta go to the roof to figure this out." I was now gripping the leather-bound thing in my hands, it was worn with age.
"...Why exactly?"
I looked to John, and he was confused, wide eyed, and pitiful.
"Oh shit. Not that. I gotta figure this out." I took an unsteady breath, "It's just that the roof was kinda...our thing?"
"Ok." John nodded and got up when I did, "Just wait though. I'll grab you something to eat and a blanket. It gets windy up there."
He left the room almost running, saying, "I'll be like...two minutes! Time me!"
"Sounds good." I smiled at this.
I didn't time him but stood there for a couple of seconds, still holding it.
The journal.
This new thing that made my hands spark, almost burst into flame.
Then I went upstairs to grab my shades. This crash experiment wasn't needed anymore; I needed my shades now.
I was feeling quite grim but found myself still smiling at John's silliness. His damn timing. My smile fell immediately as it came but I couldn't help but feeling a warm feeling in my chest at this caring gesture.
