He wakes, head-heavy, like his dreams had too much weight for his brain. The stars are gone, replaced by a mushy cloud soup that has spread across the sky. A revving engine: that’s what woke him. Father’s car pulls away. He’s got ready and left the house for work without bothering to check in on his son. Caleb has another day to himself, another day in which it will rain hard, like it does every day.
Caleb struggles out of his cocoon, wondering how many of the neighbours across the street have spotted him sleeping on the garage roof, wondering why none of them care enough to say anything to Father. Perhaps they have, and have walked away baffled by his indifference. Perhaps.
He drags himself and quilt back through the bedroom window, changes PJs for slack jeans and an Alkaline Trio hoodie, and heads straight out before the rains fall. That graveyard has had a whole night to grow, and he’s going to find out how much.
What Caleb doesn’t realise is how much things are about to change.