the sun was white and the air was cool. there was no hot pavement scent. sat on a street i'd never sat on before. talked about all the things i'd done wrong, and all the things that did me wrong. the trees danced to a tune not quite audible, their movement a melody unto itself. 
as we waited, for what i can never be sure, i taught her how to place a blade of grass between her thumbs. how to push air past the makeshift reed. to make a sound she couldn't before. her hand still stamped from the mistakes of last night. we waited.
