Danilo
I knew I should give Kolli space.
That was the right thing to do. The mature thing. He'd been sick this morning, and then quiet, and I'd told myself to let him breathe. To let him process.
But I'd been sitting on the couch for nearly an hour and Kolli hadn't come down.
The house was too quiet.
My brain started filling in the blanks on its own. I kept thinking about how pale he'd looked in the kitchen earlier. About the vomiting. About how exhausted he'd been lately. What if something had happened to him in the shower? What if he'd vomited again and gotten dizzy? What if he'd collapsed from fatigue and couldn't call out?
The images came fast and ugly and I was on my feet before I could stop myself.
Despite knowing better, I went upstairs.
When I got to the bedroom door there was absolute silence on the other side. No shower running. No movement. Nothing. And that made the worry in my chest turn sharp.
I knocked. Once. Twice. "Kolli?" No response.
