Summers of Forgiveness

The air is thick with moisture, the green canopy far above tints everything around us. Blocking the sun but somehow trapping it's summer heat. Branches crack underfoot as we follow the trodden path deeper into the forest. A lone bird warbles a deep melody. It must be for us; not a single bird responds to him. I whistle back to him but my bird calls aren't up to snuff: he immediately bursts from the branches above and flees.

You are walking three steps ahead of me. Your feet are the same brown as your eyes. Your shoes have been abandoned several miles back, along with your smile. Calf muscles flex with each step, and your blue denim shorts don't leave much to the imagination, and they ride up a little more with each step. Now I wish they covered a bit more. I wish you were wearing an opaque and lumpy canvas sack, but instead you're wearing a white t shirt that molds to your physique. Your hair is let down, resting partly on your shoulders.

I walk a little faster, to try and catch up with you, but you hear me coming. You match me, staying a few steps ahead. The umbrella in your hand stabs angrily at the ground, the only indication betraying your true mood.

"Please, can we just talk?"

You stop abruptly, so fast I nearly collide into you.

You turn slowly to face me. Your cheeks are red. Flushed, but not like those other times. Your eyelids, puffy, and chin slightly wet: you had been crying, but have long since stopped. Your eyes...

I turn away, unable to meet your gaze. All the words I had prepared, the things I had meant to say, they abandon me and scuttle off under the surrounding bushes. I look up again, my expression blank.

You begin to talk. It sounds rehearsed, you were ready for this weren't you? Are those tears real? Is this all just a part of your speech or did you really lose something with me today. Your lips move, slowly curving more and more into a frown as you continue. Your voice picks up in volume, picking up undercurrents of anger and despair. Of frustration.

You pause. You want me to say something. I look up at all the leaves above us. I am searching for the right thing to say. So many trees around us, they must have witnessed hundreds of people have thousands of conversations of all kinds. Proposals and break ups, propositions and let downs. One of them must know the words for this game. The correct next move. If they know, they must not want to tell me.

"...that's what I thought" you shriek. The green tint of the forest seems to bend just a little red in the aura surrounding you.

You rush back the way we came, leaving me alone in the small clearing. My words slowly peek from the thicket surrounding. One by one they come back, joining me as I watch you running through the forest. You make little sound, but your shuddering shoulders betrays you once again.

My words look at me from my feet. All the things I should have said come rushing to me, all just a little too late.