Saturday's Storyteller: "If things ended that way, how did they begin?"

by Belinda Roddie

If things ended that way, how did they begin?

Well, to be clear, they began with fireworks. Independence Day was colder than usual, and cloudy sky lit up in neon smoke as we huddled by our bonfire at the beach, sharing mason jars filled with whiskey and apple juice and chewing on half-roasted marshmallows from sandy sticks. You and I kissed with melted sugar on our mouths, and we forgot about the forced patriotism for a minute just to calculate the code in our green eyes.

That's not to say things didn't end with a whimper. They ended with a bang. A loud bang. This was no firework display or pyrotechnic wonder. It was simply a flicker, a rip, a puff of air from a ripped tire as your convertible spun out of control toward the edge of the road.

You didn't die, but you were shaken enough to separate yourself from me. No amount of alcohol would calm your nerves. Nor did any number of stitches really appear to sew your emotional stability back together.

This Independence Day, I will be back at the beach, devouring s'mores and keeping the burning bourbon from rising out of my stomach. There will be no one to dance with, but of course, there will be fireworks.

This week's prompt was provided by Jess Shurtleff.