The clearest memory I have: one night, she slipped into my room and woke me up. It was the last time I ever saw her. But Ididn’t know that when I blinked my eyes open to find her face hovering above mine.
“Come with me, Dimi. We can run away together.”
She smiled and her eyes disappeared. “Anywhere you want. To the moon.”
“I don’t wanna go to the moon,” I mumbled, hiding my face beneath my blankets. “I wanna sleep.”
I can still hear her last words to me, filled with disappointment, stained with unshed tears. “Please, my sweet boy. Come withme. Please.”
I said no again. I was seven; I didn’t know what she was asking me, and in truth, I don’t think she fully did, either.
She sighed and kissed my forehead and when she pulled away, she left behind her tears. I wiped them off, turned over
