Her Shadow, His Heart

Thunder through pine,

lightning crashes—

thunder muffles

Chad’s sobs,

missing Kia,

wondering why,

whose plan.

Grass browns,

hickories shed

crimson, yellow leaves—

jack-o’-lanterns flicker

on porches.

Sun flashes,

breeze lifts—

clouds circle.

Rain hammers the porch,

hardwoods,

table,

settles by his feet.

Background check—

printer’s ink dry,

papers in a missing

person’s folder.

On record:

a bad guy—

not him.

Chad’s twin stole

his name—

wanted out west.

He dreams

of western time zones,

one last red-eye—

where smiles come easy,

fear bakes sugar dough,

trust frosts mistakes.

Army service ended.

He avoided temptation

until Kia stung him—

a shot of passion,

addictive.

Desire,

only for Kia.

He’d wake happy,

turn—

Kia gone.

Back west,

no one checks papers.

Born here,

but down south,

papers rule.

Southern life—

stanched,

sweet tea

killing his taste.

Chad hugs his knees,

sobbing on the porch.

A shadow centers him.

He lifts his gaze,

smiles through an eyesore.

She grins—

escape lingers.

“You,” Chad says,

eyes narrow.

“Nice to see you too.” Kia laughs.

Her straight hair, wet frizz.

He scans the dark.

“How’d you know—”

“Want to move?” she says.

Chad shakes his head.

“Not staying.

You’re cheating on work trips!”

She chuckles, pauses.

His lips tight.

“You’re serious?”

“Well?”

“Is that what you think?”

She sighs.

“I mean—”

“My brother,” she says,

brushing her eyes,

rain still pelts the rail.

“Good one.”

He cracks his wrist,

bounces his knee.

“Half-brother,” she says.

Chad slows.

“He’s going—”

“Tough divorce,” she says.

“You told me to support family.”

“I said that?”

Chad brings his hand to his chest.

“Now you use it against me?”

She drops her arms.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She smooths her skirt,

sits beside him.

“Home—”

“Where’s the floozy?”

he asks, folds his arms.

“My brother?” He arches a brow.

“Nice try,” he says.

“Do all guys lie,

or just the ones I meet?”

He fishes his pocket,

pulls his phone—

it rings.

“What are you doing?”

He swallows.

“Seth,” she says.

“Sup now, sis?”

A winded voice.

Chad chews his finger,

overacting, overthinking.

“Chad thinks we’re together.”

Kia chuckles,

his laugh cracks.

“We on speaker?”

“Now we are.”

“Chad, your brother surrendered

last night. I’ll go easy on him.”

“You really are her brother?”

Chad draws air with her finger.

“Sir, this is a Wendy’s.”

Same snark,

same jokes—

siblings, or both

dropped on their heads.

“If he repays the money

to charity, drop the charges,”

Chad says, brushing a tear.

“My office will take it easy on her.”

“Thank you,” Chad says.

“I got to run, future brother-in-law.”

She arches a brow.

“What?”

Chad clears his throat.

“What’s she trying—”

“Save it, bro,” she says.

“I can see it in your eyes.”

“We’re in love,” Chad says—

they hold hands on a flight to sanity.

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Website: https://writeovercoffee.blog/

X: AC0040