Come with Me

by Ronald Malfi

There was a candlelight vigil held for the victims and their families in downtown Annapolis. I did not attend, but I saw some footage of it on the news: Main Street a somber tributary of people flowing toward Church Circle, a sea of black armbands and slender white candles tipped in a flicker of dancing light like wands capable of magic.

Your eyes simmered. You were a million times right, Allison: you were a tornado. I saw dead leaves and tree branches and all sorts of debris swirling behind your eyes. Spinning, spinning, spinning.

I’ve spent a lot of time in darkness, Aaron, so much so that I’ve churned it up and stirred it to the surface and made it this real, tangible thing. It lives alongside me. It moves when I move.