“Although, you know, the money is really good.…” Melissa sighs, and flips the page.
The picture’s gone. I’m gone.
“Shall we go?” Nathaniel’s warm hand tugs mine and I clasp it tightly back.
“Yes.” I smile up at him. “Let’s.”
I don’t see the Steve Spink brochure again for two weeks, when I’m drifting into the kitchen to make lunch.
I don’t know what happened to time. I barely recognize it anymore. The minutes and hours don’t march past in rigid chunks, they ebb and flow and swirl around. I don’t even wear a watch anymore. Yesterday I lay in a hay field all afternoon with Nathaniel, watching dandelion seeds float by, and the only ticking sound came from the crickets.
-I barely recognize myself anymore either. I’m tanned from lying in the sun at lunchtimes. There are golden streaks in m
