The Summer That Melted Everything

by Tiffany McDaniel

Are you sayin’ that you’re the devil?” “It is not my first name, but it is one of them.” He reached down to scratch his thigh. It was then I noticed the denim was worn at the knees more than anywhere else. Over top of the wear were layers of dirt, as if kneeling

were all the time for him. “You’re lyin’.” I searched his head for horns. “You’re just a boy.” His fingers twitched. “I was once, if that counts.”

I knew by looking at him, he was the type of boy who got up with the sunrise, already tired, and worked until the sunset, shrunk to the bone. He knew the resilience of a seed, and the vulnerabilities of it also. The blessing of a full field and the destroyed hope of a barren one.

But above all else, the hand existed as that of pure love. I could near all the hearts of this world and never come near being loved like that again. That was how I knew the seven millionth hand was God’s.