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Alex finds Charles curled in on himself at the edge of the town, pressed against the cold stone of the church.
Reading him has gotten harder, lately. It’s part of growing up, his mom said; the losing touch. If Alex thought it cruel then, it’s more so now that Charles’ eyes never meet his anymore. The frustrating part is that he can’t tell what’s changed, if anything at all.
“It’s gonna rain,” Alex warns Charles, kicking at a rounded rock.
“Go home, Alex,” Charles replies. He doesn’t look up.
Alex grits his teeth. He sighs, shakes his head, and leaves.