She grabbed my hand in hers quickly.
Pulling at my fingers to get me to look up at her, and she smiled so vividly at me. At me.
"Let's go on a trip together."
She was laughing, high after her wisdom teeth removal, but she seemed so earnest.
"I don't think that'll work out well."
I chuckled at her childish enthusiasm. We couldn't just leave, as much as I wanted to get away with her.
Her face fell quickly, sharply, alarmingly.
I quickly regretted my words, stuttering over new ones, trying to cheer her back up.
"W... well, maybe we could. Where do you want to go?"
The sun rose in her again, and it lit up the moon (to be quite a cliche) within me.
"Let's go to Maine."
"We'll be like Stephen King characters but without the horror. We'll rent a little cabin and go on bike rides. I'll sit on your handlebars."
"We can walk on the beach.
The sand will eat up our toes, and the water will wash it away. I'll dunk you, and you'll dunk me. I'll braid your hair in the morning while you drink coffee."
"We'll get drunk off of fruit... and wine of course."
Giggles shook her body. I grinned at her; she was on a real trip.
"That sounds perfect."
"I'll hold you to it." I kissed her on the cheek, right where her freckles are.
But years later, I'm on a trip by myself.
I thought she'd be here with me.
But you can't count on a future you create when you're high.
It'll be gone tomorrow.