I need to go.” Just like the week before in his bedroom, he was walking away.“Riley? Riley!” Scrambling to my feet, I took a few steps after him... “Just... I... I don't know.... I need some time.”“Riley!” He did not turn around, but walked quickly toward his car at the side of the beach. If my pulse slowed for even a moment, it may have allowed my heart to sink in my chest, but it simply beat frantically and unsteady. I couldn't move, even to chase him. His car door slammed, headlights scanning. Delight inthem. If anything, sensation strengthens -- hair tickling neck, breastspressing cloth, the lightest brush of finger on cheek, below the eyewhere, unaccountably, a tear trails down. Fragments of feeling growinglarger, knitting together. New feelings.Waiting, watching, I've seen, just once or twice, passengers on thetrain gazing out over the valley, I've seen the trembling aspen leavescatch their eye, the silver water of the river lead their eyes to minebefore the train, not stopping,. More

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