I think of rain on bus windows instead of the sunlight that forced it’s way through the dust, dim light catching on the necklace of the wrinkled woman beside me. Rain seems more fitting for loss than the brightness of summer.

When I try to remember that day, the last day, I see gray hovering over the hot Florida landscape. I imagine cold drops, fat with foreboding, instead of the bright, eye-squinting light where I left you. I think of those fourteen days paired with sky blue skies and sea blue seas. I feel warm showers of afternoon rains and sticky nights illuminated by neon lights and the energy of youth.

But the sky turns ominous the moment I remember your face receding into the void of time and lost moments. Goodbyes can only seem to spoil sunny skies. Maybe the weight of rain is more fitting for farewells.


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