Susan Pogorzelski

We were both young… Taylor Swift, “Love Story” I’m sixteen — or maybe I’m fifteen and about to turn sixteen, I never can remember correctly — when I first meet him. It’s early October and my parents are set up at an outdoor antique market in a place I’ll call simply “the grove.” The wooded area has been mostly cleared for the aisles and aisles of booths — tents to shield us from the sun or rain and tables set with jewelry and glassware, books and metal children’s toys — but