Well. That was a day. I’d come to the rose garden for some peace, my parents’ snide comments ringing in my ears, only to find a black-haired boy there already, tending them carefully. I don’t know what came over me, but for some reason I had to make him laugh, see him and know I’d made him happy.

When he smiled, I felt like there was a tiny sun in my chest, warming me from the inside out. I feel like I’ve finally found someone who doesn’t know me, and I can speak to without them only seeing my father’s gold. I’ve been told I’m too trusting, that I need to harden up; but it’s not true. I’m an excellent actor, convincing people that they’re my friends whilst in reality I dislike them all.

There are a precious few people in this godforsaken town who can even begin to comprehend how my mind works. My aforementioned best friend, Jon, is one of the vaguest people I’ve ever met, but he’s nice in a sort of detached way. Other than him, well, there’s not really anyone else. Until now.

By the time I get home, it's about five bells and a golden light is descending over the town, painting everything in a buttery wash. The day is cooling, but it's still balmy, crickets chirping in the hedges. It's a beautiful evening, sweet and warm and gentle, but I know tomorrow morning the blistering heat will return. Most days are like this; fierce gold and bronze rays softening to gilded light and deep blue shade. It's almost enjoyable in the evening, but it's a façade. Leaning on the wooden doorframe, I regard the street. It's all black criss-crossing beams and shadows, the gold catching on the glints of metal visible on the doors and windows. 

Sighing, I slip inside my house.