Memories of Innocence

The morning light crept through the thin canvas of the tent, pale and hesitant, as if it too understood the weight pressing down on Taye’s chest. He had not slept. The hours had passed in a haze of restless turning, each creak of the tent fabric a reminder of the world outside—a world that had reshaped itself into something unrecognizable. He lay still now, staring at the seam above him, watching how the shadows clung to the corners like secrets that refused to be released.

He closed his eyes, and the first memory came unbidden.

It was a Saturday afternoon, three summers ago. The sun had been high and generous, painting the park in shades of gold and green. Taye had been twenty-one, still wrapped in the comfortable ignorance of youth, and he had seen her from across the field—Trinity, laughing at something Justin had said, her head thrown back, her braids catching the light. She had a way of making the air around her seem lighter, as if joy were a currency she spent freely. He had watched her for a full minute before she turned, caught his gaze, and smiled.