Summertime

I don’t know what it was about that summer day. Maybe it was the heat, and how it made everything hazy and slow, like the world was a sluggish, grainy, broken reel that was overheating.

Whatever it was, we headed to the railroad tracks and lay out on top of them. She promised she would keep me safe; no trains would come through now.

And then, suddenly, she grabbed my hand. I look over at her and she’s staring at me, grinning. “I’ll always be here for you,” she murmured.

And I could tell she meant it; just for summertime.