Once

Once
by Jason Evans


Summer air rushed, and motorcycle spokes flashed in the sun.

Her hands held his waist as the road plunged down the mountainside. He shifted gears, and her body slapped into him. It was hard for him to concentrate on the road.

In the valley, they ca-thunked over railroad tracks and leaned off onto a gravel road. The husk of a mine rumbled by, then a rusted coal truck. He wove through the bits of water still standing from last night's storm.

In the shadow of an old warehouse, he cut the engine. The kickstand crunched the broken chain of a no-trespassing sign.

She pulled the wind knots from her hair. "What is this place?"

"No idea. But it's been empty a long, long time."

"How did you find it?"

"Just wandering," he said. "As usual. You want to go in?"

She grinned. "Hell yeah."

Around back, the padlocks were broken on a bent steel door. He stole up the stairs with her close behind. Each time the boards creaked, her hands shot back to his waist and grabbed hold.

In a dusty room overlooking the woods, he turned and her arms slid around him. Chiseled rays of sun blazed in her eyes.

* * *

But now the sunlight molded only one shadow on the cracked wall.

The thought of her still stole his breath after so many years. He wondered what made him come back.

Outside, the snap of winter still hid in the evening hollows. He climbed onto the motorcycle alone.