Implored and enticed, the youth mirrored the man’s actions, palms up, together, bowl-shaped, as if he could hold something within them. He’d once caught the rain like that, let it pool along his fingers, laughing, laughing, laughing, before the sickness festered within him, and then he couldn’t laugh anymore. “My favorite…” he trailed off, used to doing so, before coughs dragged him to ceasing and desisting anyway.
His favorite thing had been playing in the Oasis, pants rolled up or completely naked and bereft since they day he was born, wading into the water, swimming until he and his friends and siblings were exhausted. Then they’d eat whatever they could find. Some wild berries. Oh. Berries. “Okay. I got it.” And he pictured them in his head – a sweet smile adorning his face.
His favorite thing had been playing in the Oasis, pants rolled up or completely naked and bereft since they day he was born, wading into the water, swimming until he and his friends and siblings were exhausted. Then they’d eat whatever they could find. Some wild berries. Oh. Berries. “Okay. I got it.” And he pictured them in his head – a sweet smile adorning his face.
