[ TT ] You find a shoebox of childhood photographs of you playing with a man called `` Mr . Nobody . '' You have no memory of him .

In his haste, Jeremy nearly tripped over his lanky legs as he bounded down the old wooden steps. From the attic to the ground floor the sound of his size thirteen Nikes boomed through the house. He felt the banister tremble beneath the weight of his hand as he desperately tried to remain upright on his flight down. Upon reaching the base Jeremy darted left, using his hand, he grappled onto the threshold of a door seal and swung around into the living room. 
 
 `` Jeremy! My word!'' His mother gasped from her usual chair. Sitting upright her hands were frozen over some piece of cloth that she practiced her needlework on. A messy mat of gray curls hung down over her brow in desperate retribution to the loose bun atop her head. Jeremy could see the surprise plain on her face. 
 
 `` You're not as small as you once were. You could have given me a heart attack.'' She scolded, fanning her face with a free hand. Without a word, Jeremy took a moment to gather his thoughts. He looked around the room at all of the pictures that hung on the white walls and the ones that sat on a shelf above the stone fireplace. 
 
 `` Jeremy what's wrong?'' His mother asked sensing his anxiety. 
 
 `` I was just... I... When was that picture taken?'' He stumbled out. Jeremy pointed to a small photo sitting above the fireplace. 
 
 `` When you were four I believe, it's you and Liam dressed for Halloween.'' She answered, `` What's wrong dear?'' 
 
 Jeremy strode over in long bounding steps. Nervously he picked the picture up and scanned it over. Finally, after a moment he sighed in relief and set it back down. `` Talk to me Jeremy.'' His mother pressed firmly. 
 
 Jeremy nodded and took a seat on the couch across from her. `` I was just... In the attic looking for some stuff for the apartment when...'' He trailed off trying to remember the face. His eyes stared into the ugly floral pattern that covered the couch he inhabited. 
 
 `` Spiders.'' His mother replied knowingly, `` I should have warned you.'' 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 `` I told Clint to go spray up there, but he ca n't be trusted with anything now-a-days. He claims he forgets, but I think he's just lazy. They do get pretty big this time of year.'' 
 
 Jeremy sighed again, `` I have n't been afraid of spiders since I was six.'' 
 
 `` Well then what is it?'' His mother's patience persisted. She set her needlework aside. 
 
 `` I found a box... In the attic.'' Jeremy began, `` Mom who's Mr. Nobody?'' 
 
 She smiled sweetly, `` Is that what this is about? You're old imaginary friend?'' 
 
 `` Imaginary friend?'' 
 
 `` Well of course do n't you remember? You were so keen about him. You said he would follow you everywhere.'' She chuckled innocently, `` You used to pretend play with him up in the attic all the time. That's probably where your fear of spiders came from, being up there all the time.'' 
 
 Jeremy pinched the bridge of his nose, `` Mom I'm not afraid of-'' He paused, `` You put all my kid stuff in a box?'' 
 
 `` Well of course, I kept both your and Liam's childhood things. All your little drawings of your pretend friend, pictures, awards, you know for my sake. My memory is n't as good as it once was.'' Jeremy stared at her beyond confused. She seemed entirely oblivious. 
 
 `` There's a man in those pictures.'' Jeremy said, coming right out with it. `` Same as in my old drawings. Tall, skin pale as milk, black dots for eyes, dressed in a suit with the thin tie.'' 
 
 She cocked her head confused, `` Well that's how you used to draw him, if I remember correctly. Now that you mention it, it is an odd imaginary friend for a four year old. Your father always told me so, he'd say-'' 
 
 `` In the pictures mom!'' Jeremy shouted. Anger slipped out from deep in his throat. The old women recoiled in her seat. `` In the actual pictures. He's there!'' 
 
 `` Jeremy!'' She exclaimed shocked by his outburst. `` Calm down honey.'' 
 
 `` I ca n't... I do n't... I do n't remember ever having an imaginary friend. Mom some of those pictures.'' 
 
 `` What is it dear?'' She looked on the verge of tears. 
 
 `` I was on the railroad tracks, the ones down from the house. There was a train coming, but the man in the suit was pulling me off the tracks.'' Jeremy's eyes emptied out as the pictures floated back into the forefront of his mind. `` Then there was one with me in the bathtub, he was waving at the camera smiling. No teeth just tight lips like stretched leather. And another he was reading a book to me in bed. The old Thomas lamp next to him. He was reading... Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater. And then... There was one...'' Jeremy stopped. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes and stung salty memories. 
 
 `` What was it Jeremy.'' His mother asked with grave concern. 
 
 `` I was in a chair, in our kitchen. He was standing there behind me with that same tight smile. He had one hand on my should and another holding my chin so I faced the camera. I was afraid, like really afraid. I was screaming.'' Jeremy looked up at his mother, the questions came unbidden, `` Who took the pictures? Why was I screaming? Why ca n't I remember? I never had an imaginary friend.'' 
 
 `` Jeremy... I do n't know what you're talking about?'' His mother conceded through trembling voice. Jeremy was scaring her, he knew. He pressed his hands to his eyes and huffed. A few strands of hand floated in front of his face. He watched them fall. 
 
 `` I'll show you.'' He said, standing suddenly from the couch. 
 
 `` Jeremy wait!'' She called, but he was already sprinting back upstairs. His shoes echoing off the cluttered walls with each step. Alone and distressed for her son, his mother began to cry.
