Back on the roof, he turns to cry and walk away when he sees the box. He picks it up and goes back to his dorm room where he places the box on his desk across from his bed. He sits and stares at the box in what must seem like hours, but in truth is only a few minutes. Finally, he carefully opens it to see what I could’ve left. He pulls out his sweater, the CD mix he made me, a few other gifts he’d given me, and a letter.
He plays the CD and holds the letter in his hands. After listening to the same songs a dozen times, he gently unfolds the paper. He wipes away the tears that have fallen and hearing in my voice he begins to read. The letter reads,