Boys of Summer
Lit Up — May’s Prompt: Nostalgia
The clean sheets smell of ocean air and topaz skies. Their tanned bodies, fresh from the sun’s playground, lie intertwined like vines. A door opens next door, and for a brief instant Don Henley sings “after the boys of summer are gone” through the crack. A thwack ends the song as the door slams shut.
“You awake?” he whispers, running his fingers, one by one, down her spine.
Her hair, still damp, clings to her shoulders, and outside the window, a motorcycle buzzes by like an impatient bumblebee.
“I can’t believe this is our last day here,” she mumbles and buries into his chest, into her summer-sweet memories.
He’s quiet. The minutes stretch out, then disappear. Perhaps they got lost in his silence. Or in her thoughts. Time packs up its rules and goes on vacation when she dives deep enough in that ocean.
She stirs. Slowly. Reluctantly. Carefully pressing the moment into her mind like a rose in a scrapbook.
“Is it really over?”
Pushing up on her elbow, she seeks his reassurance but finds only an empty bed. Sinking back into the stale sheets, she listens. The snare drum rain promises an early autumn.
If you enjoyed this short tale, here are others I’ve written with nostalgic flare:
