They sat in the sand under the moon and sky, the sea gently nudging the beach in sad, steady ripples. She said that when things break it means they weren’t real and he said I love you. She said you can’t say that.
He thought he just had but then he wasn’t sure.
The sand was cold without the sun and squished beneath their toes and derrieres. He looked straight ahead so he wouldn’t fall into her eyes.
I love you.
They sat in silence after that. She started crying, which seemed unfair to him. He couldn’t compute tears, particularly hers. He looked ahead.
If it breaks it’s not real, she repeated, and he thought I guess my heart isn’t real. He said ok, though, because she seemed pretty sure.
Can’t you see that, she said, but all he could see was the moon’s pale reflection on the water and he thought it might be beautiful. Sitting next to her it seemed like a stupid question. He thought she might be crying again, but was afraid to look.
You can’t know these things.
I need to be a better person first.
This was never fair, you were never fair.
Can you say something besides ok.
She laughed at that, but it wasn’t a joke so it sounded harsh. There was a fire burning out somewhere behind them and a change of wind brought it to his nose. It mingled with the sweetness of her hair and overwhelmed his senses, so he closed his eyes.
You don’t have anything to say?
I already did.
She shook her head and got to her feet and walked back to the embers, leaving him alone with the moonlight dancing off the waves.
It was breathtaking.