A Mile Around the Moon

o n e

if it's the last thing i do
i'll find a way to make you
see it t o o . . .

🌙🌙🌙

Growing up, my favorite time of day was six AM during the summer months. I'm almost embarrassed to admit how much of a morning person I was as a teenager, but it's the truth. There's nothing quite like it.

Half of Shellmark would still be fast asleep while the other half stirred to life, and I'd watch the sunrise through the windows of The Sand Dollar just as my shift was about to start. It's the diner that shaped me into who I am today; a legacy in my coastal hometown in Maryland. It's where I learned how to flip my first pancake as a kid, and where I'd roll up for work hungover and hungry as hell as a teenager. The Sand Dollar is my parents ultimate pride and joy, and I couldn't imagine it not being a part of my life.

I still love mornings. Dedicating myself to a diner pretty much forced that on me. Although now that I'm halfway through my twenties, six AM takes a backseat.

Nine o'clock at night is my new favorite time. A time just as random and strange as six in the morning, but it's what I look forward to the most anymore.

It's when Brody and I are both finally home from work at the end of a long day. We've already eaten dinner for the most part, we're showered and settled on the couch together watching bad TV in our condo we've owned for the last three years. I get to do my crossword puzzles as a way to wind down my brain, I ask Brody for answers to all the ones I can't guess, and he gets deeply invested in whatever show I've chosen for us to watch.

It's the humdrum routine we've been in for quite a while now and it's the best thing ever.

This particular Tuesday night isn't any different. The two of us are holed up in our living room with a nasty thunderstorm happening just outside the door to our balcony a few feet away from us. The sun was out for most of the day – basically a perfect day in June – but now the skies have opened up and the streets will be flooded in no time.

I glare at the crossword book in my lap that's a mess of scribbles and half-filled answers. The empty blocks on the page laugh at me, especially the one particular phrase that I've been stuck on for the last fifteen minutes. I'll move on to solve a different one, but I keep coming back to the same clue every time.

"What's a six letter word for a sushi topping?" I finally give in and ask Brody.

He doesn't answer me, so I look up from my book at him next to me on the couch. His eyes are glued to the TV, his tan feet comfortably crossed on our coffee table, and I can tell he didn't hear me.

"Look at this guy!" He exclaims, gesturing to the talent competition show we're watching. "He just made her disappear. Into fucking thin air. If he doesn't win, I'm boycotting."

I can't hold back my smile as I gaze at him. He's so damn cute.

When Brody realizes I didn't respond to him, he turns to see me already staring at him. "What'd you say?"

With a chuckle, I repeat, "A six letter word for a sushi topping. Got any idea?"

His sun-freckled forehead crinkles as his blue eyes shoot up to the ceiling. I can practically see the wheels spinning in his brain trying to come up with an answer.

"Wasabi?"

I'm way too excited to look down at the puzzle again to see if he's right, but to my dismay, the letters don't match up. "Nope. Second letter is an O," I tell him with a frown.

"Hold up," he blurts, shutting his eyes to think. "What the fuck are those weird little fish eggs called?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "Caviar?" It's a long enough word, but it still doesn't work.