sunshine (2)

The old bench near the basketball court still bore the initials—E + M, etched with the corner of a house key. Eva sat, her fingers brushing over the carved letters. She could still see him—Malcolm—laughing in that sharp, barking way of his, daring her to be reckless, to live without folding every corner neatly.They were sixteen when the summer broke something in both of them.Back then, the park had been their world. A kingdom of curfews, skateboards, gas station candy, and broken rules. They’d lie in the grass at midnight, tracing constellations, making promises too big for their bodies to carry.