Charlotte Stephie Sylvie !!top!! -

Charlotte, Stephie, and Sylvie had been friends since the summer they all scraped their knees on the same broken sidewalk crack outside the old public pool. Now, twenty-three years later, they were crammed into the front seat of Charlotte’s station wagon, the back piled with sleeping bags, a half-empty bag of sour gummy worms, and three mismatched umbrellas.

Sylvie laughed—a wet, surprised sound. “She is stubborn. Last week she told the nurse her jello was ‘communist propaganda.’ The nurse was from Nebraska.” charlotte stephie sylvie

“I’m just saying,” Stephie said, peeling a gummy worm from her thigh, “if we’re going to drive four hours to see a lighthouse that might be haunted, we should at least stop for decent coffee. Not gas station tar.” Charlotte, Stephie, and Sylvie had been friends since

Stephie’s voice was soft. “We’ll take her pictures. Video.” “She is stubborn

Stephie raised her phone too, filming Sylvie filming the sea. Charlotte just stood there, hands in her coat pockets, watching her two oldest friends hold up their tiny rectangles of glass to the immensity. It was ridiculous. It was exactly right.