My favorite spot is in the cave on top of the mountain in my city. I used to love climbing that mountain with my sister. We got our father to build us a swing right at the edge of the cave, the part that overlooks the city. Not sure why he did, it is really high up and extremely dangerous for a 15-year-old and a 13-year-old. Though I guess he trusted us enough to know that we already knew to be careful. We had been climbing that mountain and using the cave as our play-place since I was five, my sister was seven.

This swing at the edge of the cave was the best thing to ever have been built before. It led to so many heartfelt conversations. Some with me and my sister, maybe between me and my friends, or her with her friends. Any way, this was the spot where we talked the most, like actual heart to heart conversations, not just small talk.

The last talk my sister and I had there was when she told me she was moving to another city, really far away. She was 20, me 18, so she was old enough to leave on her own, and was definitely responsible enough. I never understood why she wanted to leave though, and she never gave me any specific details. Only two weeks after that talk, she was gone.

She didn’t give anyone a new address, or even the area she was going to. It’s like she just disappeared. I was really upset, I missed her a lot. I didn’t go to the cave on top of the mountain for a while, maybe three weeks. It was the both of ours, I think it would have made me miss her more.

When I finally did go, I noticed that there were a bunch of boxes there. The swing was different, the chains were painted on. They were now black instead of white. I then saw a bed, and someone sitting on a chair, looking directly at me.

“It’s about time you came up here, I’ve been here all alone for three weeks.”