The sun of summer warms the air, filling it with joy as the children come out to play. I lay out the blanket and set down the wicker picnic basket, leading her forward to her seat, still blissfully unaware of why she came.
She sits only until I do, clasping my hand and solemnly looking into my eyes. But I’m still blind, jovial and bright. I hardly hear her words, only grasping the last one: “apart.”
It’s as if the world freezes. The sunshine fading as reality comes crashing down.
“We should spend some time apart.”
I beg her to stay, but she drops the black marble I gave her, a promise of my eternal love, and vanishes with the wind.
