Stay -2005- May 2026

Cole shrugs, that easy, infuriating shrug. “Start of senior year. My dad got the transfer. Phoenix.”

The three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. Stay -2005-

He gets in the Jeep. The engine coughs to life. For a second, he just sits there, hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead. You think maybe—maybe—he’ll cut the ignition. Maybe he’ll get out. Maybe he’ll say You’re right. Stay. Cole shrugs, that easy, infuriating shrug

Then: never.

But the words get stuck behind the lump in your throat. Phoenix

Outside, the first firefly of summer blinks on and off, on and off, like a tiny, stubborn heart. And you think, for the first time, that stay might not be a place. Maybe it’s just a promise you carry with you, folded in your pocket, for as long as you need it.