Our Place

roger-bultot-2

Impressed and unafraid, she walked right to the edge and looked over, returned to me smiling.

“How long have you known about this place?”

I shrugged. My brother used to take me up here, but I didn’t want to say that because the next thing she’d ask those questions:

You have a brother? Are you close? What’s his name?

and then get around to

How did he die?

and the worst

Are you okay?

It was so nice up here, the sun going down. She looked so pretty, hair in the wind and all.

I didn’t want to spoil it.

 

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