Tuco stands talking with Arlene. He remembers what once was. He forgets what happened later. But there is this scar nearly unnoticed now, a faint line across an older one. He finds it, fingers the small edge, remembers why this is not a time to forget how things go with he and Arlene. The evening, summer and warm, does not stir. He’d come out for air, fresh and cool, and found once more, the old talk; that smile, that laugh and yet, still, the old talk. And he found himself thinking how it is, how sometimes all we can do is remember that saving ourselves is better than saving neither of us. He says his adieu and walks away remembering a simpler time when she showed him all of her scars, then, one day wrapped herself in them and walked away cursing his careful touch. |
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RD Savage
6/09/96 © 1996 |