The boy sits in the yard tossing bones onto the fire. The grass is still wet from the night’s rain and the fire burns slowly, a column of smoke rising into the sky full of ash and embers.
The lake is on the other side of the hill waiting for the boy to come lie in the water, the water green with algae. The boy will float out to the dock and back. The wind will push him ashore.
When the clock in the living room rings four pm, the boy will leave for the church to sit and listen to people talk of love and forgiveness. The boy knows neither of these things.
After dark, the boy will sit with the coals from the fire and watch the light dance in the wind. The rain will come again and douse the fire. The rain will wash away the ash.