He strummed the strings slowly. The spotlight bathed him in golden light. He looked so much older than the last time she’d seen him.

“A long time ago I fell in love and wrote a song about a girl. Something happened recently that made me realize I never stopped loving her.”

He sang about her. Except for the cigarette-forged roughness of his voice, it sounded like the first time he’d sung to her. She couldn’t watch him. Sara must have broken her promise and told him. Underneath her wig, her scalp felt hot and itched. An incessant and unwelcome reminder.

end 7/22/2016

S. Darlington