Chloe is talking to me again. Nothing scares me more than the thought of us growing apart, but there's still no need for excuses. We stayed in last night playing chess on my bed until the sun came back up over the city. She didn't say much but she was there, in drunken spirit and perfectly hourglass shaped body, dressed in innocence and turquoise.
Nothing ever really changes between us. We're older now but the way we hold hands in the dark is the same as when we first met. We'd stay out late together because nobody missed us, our bare feet buried close in the cold Venice Beach sand and the ocean a heartbeat away.
The fires came later. I remember the smell and the sounds of the flames and the silence afterwards. The charcoal and the black, Carl watching me through the rearview mirror and how he would look so much like my father.