Note: This is a ‘drabble’ – microfiction of less than 100 words.
I don’t know why I left his room preserved. A shrine to a life that once was. Posters of rock bands adhered to the wall with blu tack, small participation trophies on top of a bookshelf overflowing with comics and science fiction novels. I dusted weekly, but otherwise the only thing to change since he left was the removal of the note he left me. Silly, really. If he’d liked things the way they were, he would never have run away in the first place.