Standing on our porch I could just barely see Miller's Ridge. The sun had set, but there was still a faint red glow in the western sky. It was beautiful, but my thoughts were not. They were angry, hurt, confused. Dusk was my favorite time of day, ordinarily. Tonight was different. If there was a breeze I hardly felt it, and I had no desire to go anywhere or see anyone. I wasn't sure when I would ever want to see anyone again.
"Kirk, we're cutting the watermelon!"
Mom's voice called through the screen door.
"No thanks, Mom. I'm not hungry."
"Ice cold!'
"Maybe later."
"Would Darren like some?"
"He left." And good riddance, I thought bitterly. I had felt uncomfortable -- actually dirty-when he told me. It was a good thing he had come by after supper; otherwise I couldn't have eaten a bite.
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