The Red Miata
For Spencer Reece
When I open the door he is standing on his desk chair.
He is only sixteen and on the verge of suicide.
His hands are eerily still.
They hold a coarse rope that is frayed at the ends.
His eyes are black holes,
the pupils, void of light.
When he finally acknowledges my arrival,
it’s with disappointment.
He unties the rope and winds it in circles,
putting it away in his nightstand
as if it were never there.
The seconds pass: slowly, and slower still
Outside his window—
the red Miata,
its shiny exterior glinting in the sun catches my eye.
Danielle Henry is a freshman at Stony Brook University. When she’s not cheering on the New York Rangers, reading, or spending time with family, she is writing.