Teens scream. They love doing it. They’re in a line, crisscrossing the small meadow off the soccer field, corner to corner, side to side. It’s night, and there’s no danger, only joy. The air is cool and crisp. The park lights are sodium yellow. The one in front knows this because of her father, who works in airport lighting, a very specialized art that involves a great many problems that do not occur in most other fields of electrical illumination. She loves her father, the one in front, loves him more than she has ever loved anyone. She assumes that will always be the case. She shouts at the others to follow her, but then they cross back and she’s the last, which is fine with her too.
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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