A Wreckage At The Top Of The Atlantic

The moon shoots huge columns of light across the dimly lit dorm room directly into the eyes of her and he is trying hard to get a look into them. They are lying side by side on his full size bed, naked and panting, heads almost touching. These are the warm electric minutes before sunrise in Richmond. He wants her to look into his eyes too, to stare right back at him, but her eyes …

…her, wondering where she was all night, dialing a phone, calling someone, a phantom. Back in her room, the television is on and so is her computer. The bed is unmade. An IM from Brian reads, "I'm going to Virginia Tech for the weekend, I'm gonna stop by to pick up some things." The bag of clothes he kept by her bed is gone. She lies down and watches the Good Morning Richmond Weekend Edition.