And there she sat. Legs crossed with eyes straight as an arrow.
The sun slipped inches at a mile behind Snow Recreation Center on the eleventh of October, two thousand and two. John met May in the hustle of his happy, full life. Pausing the daily exercising. Exchanging numbers and smiles, the two briefly tucked away from time. Centrum to Eastern Michigan’s heart, ideation began blooming. Tracing began—Finding May and John adoring each other’s warmth inside—if only for two minutes.
Two minutes that day, seconds later next month as John reached a suicidal breaking point, and months forward into 2004.
The girl he was destined to barely know. A Monet-traced beauty. Kind. Sweetly adorable. A thousand budding, poetic lines incapable of capturing May’s immediate place in John’s mind. She’d try to save his life with these two minutes, and later eleven seconds, of her time. A northern star streaking across the Vanilla Sky.
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