So Laura did. She showed her the desk—still there, the red marker faded but legible. She showed her the mirror, the notebooks, the margins of her life. And then, standing in the shadow of the oak tree with the wind picking up the leaves around them, she showed her the only thing she’d never written down.
Katrina was standing at the edge of the field, hands in the pockets of her jean jacket. The sunset painted her gold. lauraloveskatrina
Laura was accepted to a college three states away. She packed her room in cardboard boxes, erasing herself from the house where she’d grown up. On the last night, she walked to the oak tree behind the football field. The bark had grown over most of the carving, but she could still make out the K and the L , wound together like vines. So Laura did
Laura’s throat closed.
“What’s that?” Katrina asked once, pointing to the faint letters bleeding into the page. And then, standing in the shadow of the
She traced the letters with her fingertip. Then she turned to leave.