You were in the kitchen at cousins, writing down a grocery list for when everyone showed up. Right now, it was just you and Conrad, your childhood bestfriend.

He had gone surfing, probably to think about something he wouldn't talk about. Only, he came inside, limping and wincing. He walked up the stairs, blood dripping all over them. You followed.

"It's just a small cut." He says as you walk into the bathroom with him. He was holding a rag over it.