Bright sunlight streams in making us glow. I kiss her cheek leaving syrup smudges and she laughs, face flushed, blue eyes shinning. It’s perfect and we both know it. She scoots back, patting her lap and I climb on, smiling as her arms surround me. When she sings Happy Birthday, I know she means it. Leaning my head back against her shoulder, I press my face to her neck, feeling her words with my lips. I want this moment to last forever, her smile and me in warm, golden light. We almost make it. But, just like that, she’s gone. I leave her there, shoulders shaking, whispering she’s sorry though parted fingers.  

Explosions in the distance speed my search. I find my canteen first, followed by my helmet. Crouching low, I curse as my legs push into stiff BDUs. Slinging my rifle over my shoulder, I carefully make my way past the perimeter, nodding to men dressed like me. All their eyes follow as I settle near the fire, lighting my last cigarette in dancing flames. After taking one long, slow drag, I pass it to the right, watching each man gratefully swallow, letting the promise seep deep into his chest. We all know this is our last night together, me and my men. They know that I won’t let them down.

* * * * *

Don’t worry, there’s still time. At least that’s what I tell myself anyway. Even I have to laugh at that one. Judging from the looks that just earned, I didn’t quite keep that one inside my head. It’s not crowded, so I’m taking my time, sauntering through aisles like there’s no place I’d rather be. These are life threatening decisions, extra whitening or peppermint, soft bristles or hard? It’s all come down to this now, briefs or boxers. What’s a girl to do? But, I know exactly what I’m doin’, leaving my last plastic string buried in wet sand. Even when its screen went dark, they remained, ghostly outlines spelling the one place I can’t go.   

I pay in cash, snatching extra towels. My body aches to soak, to baste in heat and longing. It’s a slow process, steaming. Shrinking skin tightens around me, wanting to bruise. Under the shower’s spray, my fingers linger around my throat, teasing, squeezing playfully. That’s the trick about releasing, knowing when to turn the water off. Too much, drains, leaving paler flesh in its wake, ugly, and shriveled. Too little and hardness sets in, creating jutting stone without seams or notches. My eyes follow the spreading stain, ashes from my heart mix with heated water, turning my body black. As the bathroom hazes, I bow my head, paying my penance in soap and nails, whispering my sins to God.