July

The tie-dye sunset darkened to bejeweled black velvet, and still the little girl sat on the top step. Her cutoff shorts tickled the backs of her legs with stray threads, and she yanked them off with dirty fingers, waiting.

The front door opened with that familiar creak and a short woman sat down beside her. She wrapped one muscular arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“It’s going to be ok,” she said. “They’ll be back soon.”

The girl tried to nod. But she knew, already, that it was a lie. Nothing was ever going to be ok again.

Still, she waited.