The Fountain

Matt had asked Jamie to meet him in the courtyard, at that fountain. Matt and Jamie both lived about a half an hour away from here. It was just twilight in July, cool and comfortable. It seemed there were a million fireflies in the courtyard; the perfect example of a romantic night. He made one last check that the necklace was in its box, for the millionth time, took a deep breath, and walked towards the willows. Parting the thin, membranous curtain, Matt took a ragged breath.
Jamie was lying back onto the edge of the fountain under a boy. Her fingers were wrapping his hair around themselves, pulling his face to hers. Her ankles were intertwined with his, and his hands were caressing her face and hair.
Matt let out a strangled sob sort of thing, and Jamie pulled away from the boy. When she saw Matt, her eyes grew wide, and she stammered.
“I wish it were real.” he said, taking the gun necklace out of its the box and throwing it at her. He walked away, and she didn’t follow him.

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