Roy and Darby lay on the roof one August night watching the meteor shower.
“Don’t the stars make you feel small,” she asked.
But they didn’t. They made him feel part of a grand scheme. There had to be a master plan and he’d have a major role, he told her.
The streak and flash, maybe miles above or just over the treetops, fired his every fiber.
“That looked close,” he said, but Darby was gone. Roy never saw her again.
* * *
© 2012 by Robb Grindstaff • All rights reserved