June 18, 2024 - “Sunburn”

A man buys his dinner and then walks by her, his cologne wafting behind him. The wind won’t let her lose it. He smells like someone she met the other night, a person she can’t picture or place, and she knows she doesn’t need another drink, but, actually, it might help her remember.

The bar is emptier than it had been before but still, the man behind it doesn’t pay her much attention. He is disinterested in her, the way people are sometimes, he has no need for her internal journey to choosing the right beer but she recites it aloud anyway.

Back outside the sun is where she left it and she slides into the spot where she had been burned before, and not because she liked how it felt, though she definitely didn’t mind it, but because she had entered into an agreement with the sun when she got here and it was a simple one. It would shine and she would sit in it.