The Fourth

I pulled my sternum on the fourth of July. My partner and his friends have spent the last ten fourth’s on the roof of an entertainment center located in the middle of our midwestern university campus. I’ve spent the last three fourths at work, so we have never shared a fourth together. 

This year I was able to get out of the restaurant shortly after ten. The fireworks were over, but the drinking and comadary had just begun. My partner asked that I meet him. I agreed and looked for parking.

The campus meters cut of at nine in the evening, so parking wasn’t the problem id anticipated. The partner called while I was backing the over sized truck up along the curve. I sent it to voicemail until I was convinced my hugely compensating pice of equipment was securely nestled against the curb and out of harms way. 

I returned my partner’s phone call once I had the baby locked up. He directed me to a set of stairs which seemed normal. And then to climb a set of seats which did not feel alarming. Then I was asked to walk across a gravel surface I took moments to recognize as a roof top. This is when things began to grow curious. 


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