Crossed Fingers

him

 

I take her to the bench.

 

The bench in the middle of nowhere.

 

We sit.

 

She puts her head in my lap.

 

She looks at the sky.

 

We talk.

 

I ask about the burns.

 

She hesitates.

 

She tells me it was her mom.

 

She doesn’t say anything else.

 

Nothing about a fire.

 

Nothing about why.

 

Nothing about how.

 

Only that it was her mom.

 

I want to kiss her.

 

But I don’t.