But then, it just reminded him of what didn’t make it.

He tried to save what he thought would feel beautiful, for her.

They’d found a place not far from there but he would find her in their girl’s room. She used to crouch down, hovering above the ceiling debris that littered the floor. He’d noticed she’d started kneeling, holding onto some small thing.

Part of a night light. The toy teacup. Or she would be looking at the window.

He offered a hand and led her out. He could feel her pulse in that thin wrist.

“Sorry for bein’ slow.”

He tried for concern. But he felt sharp.

“I’m going to board that door. You can’t keep going there like that.”

When he moved her chin, her muscles quivered.

But she seemed hell bent on staying calm. Returning to that coffin face.

Her attention joined the distance, stepping into it.

Was it better than hatred?
It was death.

She looked up with a breath. Her eyes moved over what was left.

She picked her way through, meeting the door frame with the weight of herself.

Coffee?
Yeah.

Sugar?
Yeah. Cream.

Goin on a walk?
Yeah.

You want company?
No.

Sorry.

Budge a stone with her toe. Send it overedge.
Chinks downside til nowhere. Stop at nowhere.
Tryin a hide emselves in nowhere.
Her too.
Always bein lookupon.
She always lookupon the rocks.

His truck comin up. Gravel chunkin outta tires, crushin undertoe.

Goin a the r.v. spot. Got you rootbeer. Best kind.

Her breath hole itself from her. Desert bring him out like a switchblade.

Member when you chew that cinnamon gum when I’s little.
Burnt my mouth. But I always ask for some cos it’s special.

That was yer Ma. I had the mint.

I always like a hug you cos you smell like a mint.
That’s a good smell to have.

She seen her sister’s eyes after askin for their Ma. Now’s her turn.

You ever goin a say where did Ma go.

Someplace.
She fancy a library. Ain’t one in town.

His breath caught up’n his smoke.

Put something on.

She pick through his cassettes. Truck curlin on the blacktop. Cliffs on all sides. Nothin to bring back a bad place.

She look over. He chewin a toothpick. Hand on the wheel.

That boy call you?

I guess he did.
She try a keep from lookin like she makin hope about it.

He bang the pot on the sink bottom. He scrape it into a drain till water’s comin up the sink.

Gramma sittin by the window. He look at her like she can’t live.

He heat up more water. Stirrin in sugar.

Your gramma burnt the sugar again.
Made a mess. Got a start over.

She sniff the burnt sweet air. He stare at gramma.

It’s hot.

He hold the pot over gramma.

You want it in a feeder now?

Yeah?
She twistin her hand.

You don’t make sense.
Gonna burn ‘em, ma.

Let it cool off?
She hold a damp tissue.

You just say you want it in the feeder hot.
You want em humminbirds a die?

Whatever you want to do.
She sinking back down in the armchair. She look at the tv screen.

You’re sick, ma.
He throw open the kitchen door. Throw the pot out the door. Bang it shut.

Gramma hawkeye her.

They watch it. Sugarwater draining out the pan onto gravel.

Hornets feedin on it now.

She forgot about the confrontation, even as she scanned the water for traces of them. They were normally here by now. Sometimes they were nearby, floating on the surface like large crumpled tissues.

Having no reason to make another decision, she didn’t.

There was no sound of them, though.

A few outboard motors sputtered in the distance, and she thought of the purr of an old cat. The thought went back on the belt again, leaving her to yawn.

The bluegill had given up on her toes. They now hovered by her ankles, each leg their inedible protector. The water around her feet had warmed. She churned it to invite the chill to return. The fish retreated to where it was waist-high, behind the vallisneria. Their eyes reflected against the olive blades as they watched her.

It caught her eye there.

The thought came on the conveyor again, finishing before she could dismiss it.

I’m a weakling washcloth floating in the tub
Floating there like butter
Floating like a rug
A butter colored washcloth melted from its pat
Now my skin is sliding
Would you take a look at that!

But it was the interruption of her mother’s voice that made her realize how very late it was.

A firefly lazily spiraled off of her forearm, landing on her finger.

He’d followed her gesture toward the moon.

By the time it reached them, it had traveled through several of its own lifetimes.

It drifted down from the tidal flare in silent grace.

He’d been staring, open-mouthed, watching them release into the atmosphere, the white of them reflecting in silver sprays as they entered. He marveled at the tiny fluffs of them as they slowed, using their bodies to catch the wind. It was wobbling to adjust itself when it collapsed and dive-bombed.

He wouldn’t have thought he would need to shut his mouth.

He gasped, pulling air in quick, shallow bites. He had no idea, by the time it was in him, what had transpired.

He marveled at the sight of them, and felt like he was coming down with something. He cleared his throat and felt a dull ache. Its beak felt for the back of it in mindless confidence. Its tail trailed, dusting a powder of spores over the surface of his esophagus. The first wave came in hesitant pinpricks as they took hold of him, crossing hemispheres of his body.

Beauty and loss kept pace within him.

He sat beside her, mute and root-bound. It sent out culls that pushed past the shape of his lungs as it explored. It pressed against his cartilage and tested the depths of his diaphragm, utilizing the energy of his shallow and strained inhalation to firm its threading. He recalled the way tall grass anchored itself in the dark earth as the filaments sought nourishment.

Within minutes, it had become attuned to the rhythm of his breath, unfurling its roots deeper as it mapped the terrain of his body. He could feel when it had settled around his heart. He remembered the fine crust of mud that formed after a prairie storm left a puddle, forming once-evaporated hairline cracks.

He had invited it, though not consciously, as they all had. It only took a moment of wonderment—a curious gaze or a fleeting thought—to open to the world beyond. In that single, unguarded breath, the body allowed them in with the unblinking acceptance of a child. It made its presence known in weight.

As he fought to breathe, he realized the cost of having allowed something so beautiful, so fragile, so fleeting, settle within him. In his struggle, it manifested the quiet awareness of freedom and restraint.

The world of it dissipated into corner-settled particles, floating across the line of his vision. He only faintly noticed them but they would always be there.

He realized he was still looking up. The horizon hefted its dusky chandelier.

It would never have implanted had he not been thinking about her.

Poking and rubbing against the glass as he lie there. He squinted to make them out beyond the shield of curtain.

They’d come late again.

His head ached at the base of his neck, traveling from his jaw to the ear exposed to the sound of them.

Awake, hungry, and already cooing.

He yanked his pillow from underneath his head and pressed i…

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The door to the bathroom was cracked half a foot, and she saw half a foot hanging from the rim. The window light pouring behind her caught the yellow of its eye. She stood, her face in shadow. Its face emerging from oily darkness, the tiger-iron gaze glinting as it observed her.

The overhead fan kicked on.

“Y…

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They moved past the last of the houses and stopped at the fence line. The dark-haired one slowly moved ahead of the rest with erect bearing. He approached the road and his head weathervaned from one side to another. He turned toward her and froze, his light eyes processing her figure as landscape.

He returned his attenti…

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She pulled it out, holding it by the edges.

Once again, she set it under the task light.

The lone object on the mat, it made a feature of itself on the desk.

She closed the drawer, returning to her chair and its familiar old cushion. The casters…

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He’d been sent to call in the dog, which had no intention of being called.

She had been on that hill when he first noticed her. She came out in the evening. He’d see her looking around, possibly for fireflies. A sort of childish holdover, he thought. He liked to watch.

He wasn’t afraid she’d catch him lookin…

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They seemed to gather at that place. The automatic door would slide open like the lid unscrewed from a jar. They would collect near the entrance.

She and her mother went once a week. They’d usually run in for frozen pizza and ice cream.

They would walk by a collection of…

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She pressed and held. The two-way radios confirmed their awareness with near-simultaneous chirps. She checked the channel on both.

She opened the door just far enough to see her mother sprawled out in the window chair, ottoman pulled close. The curtains were drawn back, allowing a full view of the lake. Her m…

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She is crying. She was not crying a moment ago.

There are nights where she remembers something about herself—
Never for long.

She emerges and then something happens.

She cannot recall the moment she lost her footing.
She remembered what she couldn’t believe as she slipped,

This was never supposed to happen.
I was loved. Beloved.
A bride.

It was all her fau…

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She itched her right ankle with the toe of her left foot.
She cleared her throat. They swallowed.

She seemed younger that evening. They’d been watching her, every night.

For a time, it was just them. She, looking up, stargazing.
They studied her. She adju…

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He waited for the light to change. The street wavered around the hood of his car, heat rising from them both. His jaw was sore. Tension thread itself down his neck and across his shoulders.

He’d said “so-long.” A man made his choice.

The red disappeared and green popped out from another hole.

Fine, and nobody could say she ran him.

She k…

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She had never broken this rule before.

So many times, she’d stood there in broad daylight. Now draped on the arm of night, she turned to it. It held her breath. The crescent of bay swelled below, lights from distant homes glinting from beyond the Salish Sea.

Make it to the water.

She wished she …

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She slowed the car and pulled off to the side. The engine cut power as she came to a stop. The plate of sliding glass softly scraped in the window casing under the guidance of an invisible whirring motor, its containment stripped and giving way to the outdoors. A humid breeze threw competition to the air conditioned car. Their calls hun…

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