Sherry didn't know what she would do without her big brother. He had been her rock all these years. She had known he was depressed, but she had no idea how much until...
She had discovered his note on the kitchen table that morning. Sherry's futon couch had been neatly folded back into it's proper place, as had the bedding and pillows that were stacked accordingly on the floor. It was hard to believe that Chris had been there at all. Sherry looked hard at the note and re-read it for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.
"Sherry, I'm sorry, but I couldn't stay. I need to get things figured out on my own, but I promise I'll call when I figure out where I am headed," signed plainly and simply, "Chris." The letter ended nearly as abruptly as his stay had been, and she couldn't help but worry and wonder when, or if, she really would ever hear from him again.
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