The Chrome Phase

It had been years, but with one sip I tasted everything. Marlboro Lights mixed with bonfire smoke. Roasted marshmallows. Horseshoes in fresh cut grass. Crickets chirping before a late storm. And the salty taste of his lips. The summer I'll always remember.

"It's been down to here," he gestured to his fourth shirt button.  "But a couple years ago I trimmed it short."  I stroked its current length, an inch or so, well-groomed and fragrant.  I gave it a tug and kissed his cheek.

I came to in the passenger seat, head throbbing. Bruised, probably. Keys vanished; him too.  I deserved it. We began intimately, but my last recollection was rage. Forgive me , I silently pleaded.  My phone chimed. Desperately, I swiped and read.  “We’re done."