I will remember you

“Charly…. where is this going?”

Jane woozily swivels her head to the side; expression impossible to read, eyes obscured under enormous fake-Prada sunglasses. The thick Georgia heat slowly melts the ice in their long island highballs.

A beat.

“Does it have to go anywhere?”

They are deep into the afternoon. These summer days stretch out forever, dusk lingers until 9. Neither really has anything to say.



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