When death comes, it's always a shock.

Even when you expect it, even when you welcomed it.

Grief hits you, and suddenly, you find yourself lying in bed or sitting in a chair, staring off into the distance. Your mind is empty yet full.

After desiring and plotting for something for as long as we have, it's no small wonder that it actually worked. We were overjoyed. We threw a party, raised a toast. Finally, we reached the light at the end of the tunnel.

Now, it seems like it was too quick, like it should have gone on and on, like there should have been more to it than this.

Blink and you missed it.

I don't know why I'm grieving. I stare at his drawing, the one I laid out like a perverse welcome home sign for Tyler, and try to comprehend what went wrong.

There shouldn't be any more to this. But somehow, some bond formed which can now never be destroyed. The undertow of his absence threatens to sink me and I have no clue as to why.

My alarm buzzes and I rise to challenge the day.

A day with more plots and fatal threats.

But none involving him.