Fade

one/one

slow, and she let it fade away

“it will be easier like this.”

the neighborhood flickered and withdrew, trailing smoke like a candle blown out; beyond it, the woods: deep and dark, green and alive in the middle of the summer, slick wet with rain. In all the mud and wet grass it was easy to fall and disappear.

he always drank milk with dinner. beer on saturdays and on the porch in the heat. he lined the bottle caps up on the railing, let the kids knock them down with slingshots, pebbles. sometimes he hit them himself from a distance, the hero of the sixth graders who lived next door.

in the green woods the world was still. the wind hummed through the leaves and played at her hair, hanging all loose around her shoulders, how he liked it in the summertime and the heat. rain had been coming down for weeks. he was the one that bought the makeup that covered up her bruises.

for someone who claimed he had sharp eyesight, it took him a long time to find his girl