treatswords

I felt a goodbye coming.

It stuck to the air like a spiders leg on its own web.

They had been wandering the beach, her chest wrinkled from years spent in the sun, his blonde hair crispy from salt water.

I could feel space between them. I saw my mothers hand press his arm away from her. His white shirt crumbling with sand.

Her mouth was covered in ruby lipstick. The color matched my birthstone that was tattooed on her calf.

My sister stood sweating in her leopard print jacket she refused to take off. Her white hair stood up straight, like the moon above us was creating static.

“It’s just been so long. I’ve learned to live without you.”

I heard my mom whisper into the wind.

Golden flakes shed like dandruff as I pierced a slice of pie with my fork.

The thick jelly center dripped onto my jeans.

It left a blue stain.

My dad was getting a coke from the waitress. The cup fizzed, gold bubbles rising to the surface.

My mom didn’t speak. She spilled two packets of sugar into her coffee and stirred.

My sisters fingers were stuck together with pie filling.

Blue glue.

We packed our bags and left after lunch.

Our dad stood the way he did when we met him, waving, in the Georgia heat, alone.