I don’t know.

The treehouse was oddly quiet. It was many years ago since I last spent some time here. The wind blew through the cracks as the sun was going down. I sighed and climbed in. The wood was sturdy but worn by weather.

I caressed the cracks in the wood and whispered his name. “Tommy.” It was cold. I closed my jacket and fixed my hat. It looked like it would rain.

And there it was. Few drops of rain on the roof. Up and down. I closed my eyes and thought of Tommy. How he always took me here. He was such a bully but in his heart so so kind.

I placed a candle in front of me and tried to lit it.

“You can’t do that here,” I heard a whisper in my ear.

“Tommy ?” I asked.

The candle broke in half.

“No.”