“How about this weather?”
We sat on the park bench watching the sun set over the river. The clouds were on fire before us and people behind us rushed to catch the ferry, jogged with their babies in strollers, took their bikes out of storage for an off-season ride. I took a handful of popcorn and a sip of my water without looking at him. “I wish it would last,” I muttered. I wish it all could last, I thought.
“It’s all going to be ok, you know.”
He had turned suddenly to look at me and put his hand on my shoulder. It was the second time in a few short hours I’d felt the wind knocked out of me.
I couldn’t turn to face him. What do you know about it? I thought, angrily. I stared at the clock tower across the river, afraid to blink lest I betray my thoughts.
“You are too much like me sometimes.” And he turned back to face the river, taking a fistful of popcorn to his mouth.