Mist on fog as she stands at the end of the pier. She's home with the sea water and it fills her senses. She's leaned forward on the rail, thrown her head back to take in the air. A toy pony, well, her dad told her, until she's old enough for the real thing. Little wagon wheels for feet. She turned the corner around his toes and he fidgeted with the bow in her hair. The roses are for Mom. She leans in with her nose in the bouquet. She snatched a petal from one and pressed it against her cheek. She plays with it in her pocket later that morning, her other hand in his as he set the flowers down on Mom's stone. She had strawberries with her chocolate chip pancakes and saved the petal from the wash.

She rode for her first time, the handler guided them over clumps of grass and muck. From atop she saw the streak of gray down the top of Dad's head, his smile defied the lines on his cheeks. She gave him a tussle as they plodded by. Bright as a flash, she spied a glint from the ring on his hand, he held up a bulky camera and the box made a snap and they both smiled.

He lowered the camera and her date hadn't managed to clear his acne by that night. She wore the sky cut only for her and they danced on clouds. The lights glittered through loud music and the din of youths. He stole a kiss and she gave it a twin. She felt it leaving her lips under the oxygen mask. She heard metal cracking over her own screams, tires on wet pavement and the lights weren't on the dance floor. The tears rained over one open eye and she saw Dad's gray locks atop a blurred face and she knew she had felt the boy's breath one last time.

Her eyes righted through a flashbulb and she felt short for her robes. The tassel tickled her nose as her friends crowded in for another picture and she laughed with them. The lines on Dad's mouth had curved upward as much as the ones at his eyes went down.

She held the photo of the silly look on his face, one hand on the handle of the pan, the other dropping chips onto spreading batter. She opted for the one the realtor took as he held his arm around her in the doorway of her first house. Both wore the same broad smile above his obituary on yellowed paper. She held her hands out from the pier and a petal took flight in the breeze and the mist and the fog.

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