The boy in the orange shirt holds tightly to a yellow crescent moon. His eyes are closed, his lips curve. He remembers moons and smiling. He remembers talk of broken moons and full ones rising from the earth. Sometimes he wonders why he could see the moon on bright blue summer afternoons. Sometimes he wonders where the moon hides at night, waiting till he sleeps to show its face. One night he tried to stay awake for it but it never came, or he fell asleep. He’s not sure which.
Sometimes he remembers her. The girl whose name is only mentioned in whispers and wonders if she has left him to go live on the moon. Sometimes he wonders why she didn’t ask him along. Sometimes. Yes, sometimes he remembers.