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    Summary

    Ilya’s hands find his phone, another extension of himself that he doesn’t need to think about. He clicks the lock button, a picture of him and Shane from the wedding flashing across the screen. Shane looks radiant, smiling one of those rare, blinding things that Ilya wants to capture. He wishes he were an artist, he becomes compelled by the need to capture that particular smile. But it’s not got his full attention, not today. Today, he focuses on the date at the top of his screen.

    Twenty years. Twenty years since his mother died. Twenty years without her. Two decades since his heart was cleaved in two. Two decades since he cradled her lifeless hand in his and promised someone, anyone, he’d be a good boy, a better son, he’d give his own heart and soul and life if he could have five more minutes with her. Two decades since Ilya, the sweet, soft boy who loved to ride his bike and draw and sing off key as he helped his mother cook, ceased to exist. Twenty years of not knowing how to breathe around this crushing grief sitting on his chest.

    Or: It's been twenty years since Ilya's mother died. Shane holds him through the storm.

    Language:
    English
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