Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Fifty-Six
It is time.
The fog is thick, magnifying the light from the moon. I don’t need a flashlight this morning.
She’s 16 today, but I feel like she’s been 16 for so long.
It smells like harvest.
I keep reminding her that at the end of the day, we could, but then, what would happen?
She says she has another friend, which brings the number to 29.
A pile of warm, gooey brownies, a gold candle, and a circle of sweaty girls in the weight room singing.
All the momentum, but I’m still missing one piece.
The words behind the words.
Noooooo. Not the mouthguard.