The hour grew longer & longer & longer & longer until I knew for sure I’d never languish from loneliness again. This would be the best night I’d had in a long, long time.
“Will you pack another bowl, Noah?”
“Sure thing, bro.”
We sat in an infinite circle in our field of purple wildflowers. Maggie sat to my left, then Tristan, then Tanner & Scott & all of us again & again & again, passing bowl & lighter expertly, a collective limb dancing along our archaic synapses.
The crickets’ song & contentment filled my lungs.
“I love you guys,” I croaked, as the wail of sirens sprinted our way.
Half an hour ago, a priest fell to his knees at the still smoking rubble of his altar. For the moment, he had no prayers to send skyward- just a church to rebuild, or to fireproof, or to something-logical-and-secular. He hadn’t noticed the clunk of the policewoman’s boots approaching.
“We’re real sorry, Reverend. An investigation will…”
“There will be no need, thank you. I know what happened. I know who did this.”