Marks in stone
The desert kept us.


We met at a trailhead off Kane Creek Road — Olivia out of water, James with a spare liter and no small talk. We walked the slickrock until the rock went red, then sat and watched the light leave. Neither of us wanted to be the first to stand up.
Six Septembers on, the desert keeps calling us back. James proposed on the mesa's western edge, at the hour the rock face holds the last light. That's where we'll stand this time — same rock, all of you beside us.
We found each other at last light. We'll marry in it. Stay for the fire.
