The world was ending andremember when invitations came through the mail in little envelopes sealed with a sticker and sometimes even had hand-drawn inscriptions of your name with confetti inside if the kid who scribbled his address in the corner happened to think good times included hot glue guns and fuzzy piping animal shapes.
The salt kept showing. Little grains of white bounced up off the wet curtain like someone was shaking it clean. Our hands couldnt keep it, we sure as hell couldnt see its source. So, instead, we looked at each other while the distance grew.