Signchronicity

“We have to turn around!” I said. “I have to get a picture!”

HOLBROOK, the name proclaimed, in bold letters. Out West, I stood in the town bearing the name of the best friend of my youth.

Far away, she came into my mind as if there’d been an exchange of secret whispers only that morning.

We’d shared everything. Even love of the same man – this, the beginning of the end.

I hold up my cellphone, tearfully take the shot, and turn back toward the car and my now-life – promptly tripping over the curb, the ground holding my, now-bloody, knees.