It's summer, so relationships are not concrete, and the blinding sun dries away thoughts of the future. This is the time for them, and in the bright afternoons they can pretend they are just two carefree teenagers.
They do normal things. They go to the pool together, and not once does she mention that other summer, that other pool. He kisses her next to the diving board, and the chlorine on his lips makes her choke a little.
He holds her softly and kisses her lightly. Each time he embraces her he makes sure to get her permission first. She wishes that he wasn't so caring to her. It makes her remember that she is supposed to be damaged. She holds his hands too tightly and it reassures him that there is someone that cares about him.
Sometimes they just sit in silence together, something that the harsh claustrophobia of the other seasons has never let them do by choice. The only times that she remembers them sitting still and quiet are two parallel instances, one that involved a bridge, a knife, a father, and one that revolved around a roof, a gun, a father. They are too much alike for this to be anything else but what it is.
It is them clinging to a last shred of hope and fairy tale romance. But it is summer, so they will smile and run their hands through the other's sun-bleached hair. And when fall comes, they will concede each other to the lives that they temporarily forgot about in those wonderful months.
--
---
----
-----
--------
-----------
Please review!