cindy a. littlefield
He was working that night and we had an hour to kill before picking him up. Time to stop at the quarry. Have a smoke.
She stared at the stars and the moon and swore that she loved him. Wider and deeper than the sky. She said her father would kill her if he ever found out.
"About the baby?" I said. I had older sisters and I knew what it meant when a girl got sick day after day for months.
She turned to me then, so slow I wondered if it was her or the ledge that moved. "He already knows about that," she said.
I pulled out a cigarette and leaned away from the wind to light it. Took my time while I thought what to say. When I turned back around, she was gone.
Cindy A. Littlefield