I take her to the bench.

The bench in the middle of nowhere.

We sit.

She puts her head in my lap.

She looks at the sky.

We talk.

I ask about the burns.

She hesitates.

She tells me it was her mom.

She doesn’t say anything else.

Nothing about a fire.

Nothing about why.

Nothing about how.

Only that it was her mom.

I want to kiss her.

But I don’t.