It’s the thought of Thomas that really saves me, though.

Running through the park with his cape, fighting the bad guys he sees everywhere. Believing in superheroes. Believing that I am one.

I walk slowly out of the park.

All these things I’ve been doing.

They’re like stitches. Some are neat. Others you have to tear out and redo. But in the end, they’re connected.

I turn the corner and see the circle of eight houses.

A different perspective from the way I drew it for art. Where’s the vanishing point?

The Dixon house is dark. Matt and his friends must have left. I look at my own house.

This whole time, this entire summer, I’ve been doing things for the neighbors, but what was I really trying to sew back together? Or who?