“Lately I been runnin’ around on the inside then spending the day pushin’ between rocks.” He looked squarely at her and said nothing else.
The dunes were bright on the horizon and thick silhouettes moved fast like liquid on its edge. Her mind knew no name for them. Ochre branched into so many colors behind the stampede, she felt less real than they were. Water lapped at the cliff under them and dust rose below the hundreds of colossal feet on the horizon. It was easy to think she belonged there despite the tarp spread out around her.
Maturity was etched into the terrain and she felt keenly the difference between built in a place versus being built for it. He was enough years ahead of her that only silence fit. Then again, he was tall and lean and young. Milda looked up at him. He looked down through her, holding so much of the landscape in his movement, she felt compelled to apologize for her footprints and for what she’d thrown in the water. I didn’t always take up so much space, she wanted to say. She felt so small thinking it.