We sat on a hill, where the music and laughter from the fairgrounds still reached us. He smelled like the cotton candy we had shared, and the moon reflected in his wide eyes.
It took 1.3 seconds for the light of the moon to reach Earth, ticking off our time together.
His hand was in mine, warm and strong. Would his hands get cold in space? What would the moon look like, way up there?
A whistle shot up, and the night exploded into reds, blues, and whites. The colors played across his skin and lashes.
“Don’t forget me,” he whispered into my ear. His breath ruffled my hair, and stubble scratched my cheek. “When you see the moon, think of me.”
“I won’t forget you.” My love would not wane.
Brock, B. A. (2015). Moon Man. Alembic, volume 10 (2), 8.