It was the world’s most beautiful sandcastle. But still she frowned. “No, no,” she said. “Wait,” I protested, but she kicked it down again.
“Go ahead,” Marcie whispered. Ben watched Sheila blush. The two women waited. “And take off the ring, Ben. I’ve been dead a long time.”
All I had to do was grab the outstretched fingers. He begged me to help. I smiled and walked slowly away. I knew she would soon forget him.
Adirondack chairs abandoned lakeside. Kayaks tied to the car roof. Tweens puff on stolen cigarettes, plot to run away together.
She cooed, unaware of his guilt. He fretted over how to tell her. He didn’t need to. She read his eyes, smiled and offered the cookie.
He wrote poems and she said she’d look them over. In her closet, dust gathered like mountain snow on the paper.