They watched the tide roll in at the break of dawn. Lake Michigan in September with autumn on the cusp. Soon the beaches would be cold and the winds crisp. Boats sailed ’til November.
She skipped stones while he smoked a cigarette. The two of them, up all night roaming the city like coyotes in the country, going through trash cans and dumpsters in search of food, tin cans, pvc pipe; something borrowed, something blue.
The boy and the girl sat in the sand eating sugar packets collected at McDonald’s, counting dollars and quarters given to them by those walking past. Soon they’d go looking for the man.
Marks on arms, in-between toes, always looking for an open vein. Junk crawled in their bodies, making them look like zombies; days were numbered.
But on this morning they watched the water kiss the sand. And, wished they could.