Finals "It's the finals! Aren't you excited?" "It's the what?" They were wandering, which was one of Noah's favourite things to do. At the moment they had stopped beside the garage of an old abandoned house. Noah was taking pictures of the rusted hoop above the battered doors. Betty was not getting much of his attention. "The finals, dummy. The last straw. Where it's put up or shut up. I've made my bet. Have you made yours?" Noah clicked the shutter for the seventh time, not having varied his settings one bit. "Well," he replied at length, lowering the camera but continuing to stare at the space where the hoop's net had been, "even people with all the time in the world think they don't have enough." "What?" "They don't even know what they want, and yet they're afraid they'll die before they get it." "I'm talking about the basketball finals. What are you talking about?" She put a hand over his lens and thrust her heart-shaped face up close to his. "Huh?" "Oh," he said, blushing, "nothing. I misunderstood, that's all." She kissed him on his cheek and then gave him a little slap. "You are so weird. But cute too. Especially when you get embarrassed. It must be why I hang around with you. It's like having a boyfriend from another planet. You don't play sports, you don't play video games, you don't text. But you don't have six arms and you're not slimy either. So you're my mystery guy." Noting his lens was uncovered again, Noah took a last shot of the hoop. And then he took the hand that she had slapped him with and squeezed it as hard as he dared. As lovingly as he dared. And then they wandered on. "Wow," Betty said. "I almost felt that. You're a real Prince Charming. You're my hero. I must be nuts." The ocean was not far away, as it never was for Noah. The sound of the surf was like a light cloak enveloping and holding them together. Shortly, Betty shut up so the silence contrasting with the surf could bring them even closer, at which Noah blushed again. 23 May 2024 Texas Jim Prospect, Nova Scotia www.granitecoast.ca