The Brooklyn Rail

Outside

Eliza leaned back and yawned. The sunlight played on the drops of water remaining on the porch from last night’s rain. Eric wondered how well he knew this person as he lifted his glass. "You will never understand." Ants were crawling over the tight buds of the pink and white peonies, which looked like a child’s drawing of lollipops lined up in a row. It was 10:45. A car pulled into the neighbor’s driveway and a faint smell of exhaust was left in the air; the neighbor waved.