Ben sits in the back of the car, chewing popcorn so it squeaks against his teeth, and little Janey sits up front, sucking on a peach.
I’d always known Karen fancied him. “It’ll be fun,” she said. Sometimes, she liked putting her fingers in my mouth. When she pushed them in, she’d push too far.
You’d been watching him sleep, his head resting on his arms at the table, but now he was unfolding himself like some sun-woken, hibernating creature.
Some nights, you lie awake and think about those times, about how the things which happened to you back then can become more like stories written by strangers.