All the Colors of the Dark

by Chris Whitaker

When she was gone he prayed that she wouldn’t come back. That she’d find her way home.

And I wonder what exactly a mistake is. A thing we should not have done, right? But if learning is built on trial and error there can be no mistakes, only rungs on a ladder to someplace better.”

He imagined the kind of parties they threw and the kind of boys she dated. He did not hate them, just did not dare to try and understand them.

“Women teach men how to be men?” Saint said. “Of course. How else do you think they learn?”

“I also know that a group of ladybirds is called a loveliness. I like how some things are just perfect, you know.” He looked at her, and knew.

Chief Nix once told her that to love and be loved was more than could ever be expected, more than enough for a thousand ordinary lifetimes.

Saint hugged him tightly. Behind them the clouds eased apart for a rainbow of light they did not notice. The sirens grew louder. They held together. Saint would not let him go. To love and be loved was more than could ever be expected, more than enough for a thousand ordinary lifetimes. She did not understand that until then.