Snake in the Grass

Today is like the day I met you. Sun high, masked by a veil of fog. We met in this meadow. I was reading, you were playing with your younger brother. I remember it clearly and hope you do too.

Last year you went missing.

I lay down on the saturated grass, groggy from the fog. I envision shaggy brown hair, lopsided smile, and icy blue eyes, seemingly out of place.

Time ticks. I watch the sun. I miss you and never got to say goodbye. Are you out there?

Swishing.

Sitting up, I cry, “Hello?” hoping for my love. Silence. I sob, laying down. It's been long since I saw your face, heard your voice. People say you ran, but I don't believe them.

The noise again. I listen. It's calming me; I almost felt at peace. The haze still in the sky, the sun setting, and the swishing, I could sleep.

Your face is all I see.

"Hurry! She's not breathing!"

Sobs broke out. The group huddled close, not noticing the meadow. The meadow where, my life began, the boy disappeared, and it all ended.

At the funeral, the brother noticed two dots on my neck, barely visible.