by JR Carson
When I was eleven years old, Sara was the first girl to invite me to her birthday party – me, specifically. Yes, she invited two other boys, but I think she smiled the widest when opening my gift, giggled the most at my jokes, and seemed the saddest to see me leave at the end of the party. Five years later, we were struggling in the back seat of my Toyota to find our burgeoning adult selves in each other’s pants – still lots of giggling, smiling... sadness. By the time college came around, she discovered her activist side and transferred to a school in California while I stayed behind to open the most popular accounting and tax firm in our home town. I see her twice a year, now, when she brings our son here for the summer and when I take him back to her in the fall. Even now, our encounters are filled with the same smiles and giggles, but the sadness is wholly different.
JR Carson occasionally takes a break from fighting crime with his team of engineered supermen to write a quick bit of fiction. When transitioning into one of his particular alters, he posts other ramblings here.