Neon Nights

She faltered a little, but nodded, turning to look at their stuff.

“Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

 

She looked up at him.

“Yeah. Let’s go do that today.”

 

“To the furniture store?” she teased, looking up at him. “I’m very familiar, Abes.”

 

(Zoop?)

 

She brushed her hand along the back of a sofa, her face thoughtful.

“This is where we got the world’s greatest beanbag chair,” she told him.

 

She nodded enthusiastically.

“And the hammock. That was the main reason we came. You were humoring me. I don’t quite know why.”

 

She jerked her head around, looking at him intensely.

“What did you say?”

 

She approached him, cupping his jaw in her trembling hands.

“That’s right,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “That’s right, Abel. We came here to get blankets to make clouds. That was the same trip.”

 

“We did,” she repeated. “It wasn’t too long ago. That was real; what you remembered was real.”

 

She tilted her head, dropping her hands.

“How do you know?”