I Can Walk You Home

Dear you, I don’t know how to start letters. So I’ll just

start. My dad talks on the phone at night. He says your

dad’s name like it’s hot. Like if he holds it too tight

it will burn him. He brought work home again. Not papers.

Just sighing. He checked a box that said “leave.” It was a

very small box for something very big. Your dad asked for time.

Time is not allowed. So my dad gave money instead. He looked tired,

not nice. I think helping is harder when you can’t really help.