snapshot •josh dun

nine

It's been two weeks since Abigail's mom had died. She hadn't come out of her flat. I checked on her everyday.

I did a three tap knock, the signal for both of us seeing as she was terrified someone would break in.

"come in." I heard a quiet voice say. I walked into a a huge mess. Clothes strewn everywhere, television remote on the ground, snack boxes littering her floor. I looked to the balcony to see her window boxes had died.

"Abigail..." I said softly walking over to her. She sat in the middle of this mess, crying. She looked like she hadn't slept for weeks.

I lifted her up and ran a hot bath for her. After helping her, I made sure to clean her entire flat so it sparkled. I folded clothes, vacuumed, and swept. I filled a whole trash bag with waste.

I noticed she was still in the bath, so I made the decision to quickly run over to my clean apartment to grab the potted flowers I bought her, and the bouquet as well. Before exiting my flat, I filled a small shopping bag with toiletries and snack items I thought she'd enjoy. After finishing up, I ran back to her apartment and promptly planted and put all kinds of flowers into place. I stocked her cupboard with the snacks just as she exited from the bathroom wearing fresh clothes. Something I noticed was that she was wearing her favorite socks. Ones her mom had gotten her for Christmas. The ones with the Van Gough painting on them.

I smiled at her, and for the first time in two weeks she smiled back. She shuffled her small feet over to me, and I made sure to give the tightest hug. I knew she needed it.

"Josh?"
"Yeah Abigail?"
"I love you. Thanks for being my best friend."

Once again my heart fluttered at the sound of the word 'love' escaping from her lips.

But the word 'friend' cut like a knife.