We built this Schmitty

Confusion flew through his mind as he thought of the possibilities as to why she was packing up. Maybe she was upset. Maybe she had missed him and didn't want to be alone anymore so she was moving elsewhere. He frowned and there was a knock on the front door. Relief flooded through him as he ran to answer it, hoping for an explanation from his Meemaw herself. Instead, he was greeted with Ms. Camille, her best friend. Her eyes widened when she saw him and then she began to cry. And that's when he knew. She didn't have to say anything, he understood now why his home was empty of life. Vaguely he could hear her say that they had been trying to get a hold of him, but could never reach him. He blacked out most of her words, but caught the gist. She had been alone when she had the stroke. She had no way to reach the phone. She'd been dead for a day or so before they found her. His Meemaw had had no one. And it was his fault. The last thing he remembered was shutting the door on the old lady who wasn't finished talking, turning out all the lights, and going into his grandmother's room, where he could still smell her perfume. Her bed was stripped of sheets, but he didn't need any. He fell into it and cried. He cried for her and all that she had done for him. He cried because, had he not been away, she'd probably still be alive. He cried because he was ashamed. Skylar cried and when he finally drifted, he hoped he wouldn't wake up.