We were laying back in the back of the truck. Her hair was still wet and her skin smelled like salt. We were tangled together, covered in blankets and pillows. “The take-out is cold now.” She said, her voice barely audible. I groaned. The CD was still playing in the background. “If this is my last night with you” She started to sing along. “Hold me like I’m more than just a friend” She would litter the words of the song with random melodies and beautifully vibrattoed notes. Her voice was wild and pure like the blue waves that washed up on the shore. The fabric of a memory I will never forget. I closed my eyes. “Take me by the hand, while we do what lovers do.” It was moments like this, where I felt most free. “It matters how this ends.” Her
