Syzygy

The three of us lined up in the field, standing in pockets of half-melted snow, the tall grass bowed under our boots. I was in the middle, always, each of them on the edges. I could tell they looked past me at each other, trying not to see me, trying to get closer, but not knowing how, orbiting around me on an elliptical path.

She stood under the afternoon sun, her shadow stretching across the meld with mine, and mine did the same, straight to him. We stood that way, facing the sun, a long black line connecting us, forever.

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