Come running to me, boy. Come running when the legs of your trousers crawl up your calves. When your voice begins to sink into your chest. When those first soft hairs sprout above your lip. Come running when his knife comes out. When it flashes in the dark. When he smiles at you and no longer sees you. Come running when Pan thins his flock. My ship waits in the harbor for boys that are becoming men. Come running to me on that day when he forgets you. When you die, it will not be Hook who forgets your face.