Sublime

a Coming of Age story, or Bildungsroman, or maybe a Rags to Riches story—but

I tell myself she was a luxury, like fruit out of season, lucky to have but temporary.

She knew Ernie lived nearby with his wife and four sons. The passage of time, and the details that spun some moments into unforgettable memories and others into thin air, traveled with Sylvie—the swirling atmosphere of her own life—

First and always was her hair. Long and untamed and red. And there was the milky skin that was standard issue with the hair, and freckles like red-pepper flakes across her nose.