Boketto (verb): to gazing into the distance without a thought in your head

What if mom died one day?

The little third grade boy halted, his hand halfway to his lunchbox.

Confusion was clouding his young mind.

Well, there would be no one to pack his lunchbox, that’s for sure.

He began to contemplate further. Nobody would cheer for him at his soccer games, even through rain and wind. Nobody would welcome him home from the school bus, fresh cookies and a glass of cool milk prepared for him on the counter.

There’s no one that loved him like his mother.

Growing panic climbed up his small arms, tingling with the sensation of a thousand needles, prickling at an unknown fear.

Tears almost filled his eyes, and he frantically looked around at his classmates.

They were chatting about the new Spiderman movie.

The young boy suddenly felt frustrated. And alone. He wanted a hug. But the nonchalant way his classmates continued eating pizza and giggling at each other’s jokes told him that they wouldn’t understand.

Quietly, he grabbed his lunchbox and made his way over to a corner.

From there, he mindlessly studied the classroom before him, an empty gray fog in his head as he tried his best not to think.