Saving Rain

by Kelsey Kingsley

we pulled into the trailer park on the outskirts of town, I still didn’t get it. Because this wasn’t the type of trailer park you thought of in your mind—you know, some trashy, beat-up-looking place, where some shirtless guy named Buck sat on a busted lawn chair all day, scratching his hairy gut, drinking a beer, while he waited for the unemployment check to roll in. No, this place was a bright, cheery community of tiny houses, all close together, with gardens and itty-bitty porches. Sure, as we drove through the narrow streets, I found not all of them were as taken care of as others, but, man, it was nice. Nicer than any place I’d lived before. “All right,” Harry announced, “here we are—1111 Daffodil Lane.” Eleven eleven. Make a wish. My palms were coated in a sheen of sweat as I remembered a cupcake and a flameless, smoking candle from a long time ago. I cleared my throat and made an attempt at a joke to hide my nerves. “Harry, do I look like the kinda guy who would live on Daffodil Lane?” His gaze traveled over my face, as if he were really considering the question. “You look like the kind of guy who’s getting a second chance at life. Now, come on. Let’s check it out.”