Her hair was a pink wisp, a cotton candy streak toward the sky, bundled behind her head and slipping just a bit onto her bare shoulders. She wore a watermelon-colored dress flecked with faded pink dots the color of her hair, which ran short, just above her knees.
The late summer heat sat heavy, even at night. I set my pack down and felt my shirt sticking to my back, and the sweat dripping down my neck. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Hands clasped at her back, swaying to the music playing over the loudspeakers, she floated, both one with the crowd and completely apart.
As the song ended, she leaned toward me. "I like their music," she said.
"Me too."
"I can fly." She pushed her hands in the air and inched closer. "I close my eyes and go."
Her perfume tasted like flowers, and she watched me with eyes shining and gray. "It's like an ocean," I said. "Just drop me in the middle."
"I'm Miranda."
"Jake." I flashed a toothy smile and flicked my head. "Listen to a couple more, and then let me get you a drink?"
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