Malone

December

“What are you doing, Slater?” We’re in the field where we first parked back in the summer. He’s got his old truck parked there, along with the cooler I recognize from that first date of ours, a blanket laid out in the back.

There are candles everywhere on the ground, lights strung up on poles that I didn’t notice before. He’s standing in front of everything, his profile backdropped by the soft glow. 

It’s a cool night, enough so that ...