We built our alibis and watched them shrink to nothing in the rear-view mirror.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“A secret place,” you said. “A place of our own.”
You made camp by a pristine stream. I slipped a bottle of wine in the water to chill.
When it got dark, we looked at the stars and you pretended you knew their names and we both pretended we had a future together.
I gathered tinder. You’d forgotten the matches.
“I’m sorry,” you said. “There was too much for me to remember.”
We were hungry that night but not cold.
Written for Friday Fictioneers using this photo prompt: