Work Ben

“What is that?” I asked Ben, moving toward the swath of pink I could see in the distance between trees.

“I don’t know,” he said, following along behind me. He was probably looking to take me hope, drop me off, and never have to see me again after the conversation we had just had. But we were switching frames of mind now. We were no longer “relationship” Ben and Harlow. We were “work” Ben and Harlow. And “work” Ben and Harlow are able to put things behind them and set aside their differences much more easily than “relationship” Ben and Harlow were.

I picked my way between the trees until it came into focus. It was a tree, and what I was seeing was pink bark. Unlike the last trees that Brice and I had seen in these same woods, further away from here, it was a bright fuschia pink from th