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The Joy of Argument by Albert Navarra

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Kite People

by Jordan Kvochick


Bright yellow and featuring several Pokémon, that two-dollar kite sat in the backseat of her car, having effortlessly survived yet another spring clean-out. Like the ice scraper she was hopefully done using for a while, the OSU emergency blanket from her grandma, and the inevitable bottle of water, her kite belonged there. It was a reminder one of those sterling days in her past; nice enough then, more precious now that it was gone and so was he.



The day was like this one, still chilly, but true to her Ohio roots, she was soaking up the early spring sunshine in only jeans and t-shirt. Windows down, music up, stomach-dwelling butterflies along for the ride. Driving still made her nervous then, but somehow it helped to know that he was going the same distance; meeting her halfway between Mansfield and Bellfontaine. She found him, they ate food, they caught up. The usual. But after dinner, he suggested they fly his kite. Thinking back, she realized she probably only agreed out of surprise; what kind of person keeps a kite in his car?



Trying was fun, but it didn't fly very well. Not enough wind in that random parking lot, not enough light to properly document their shenanigans. Did she still have those pictures? She only remembered they were blurry and he was looking away from the camera. Eventually they gave up and went their separate ways home. She bought her kite the next time they met up in Marion. He was running late, so she wandered around the local super-store, found a new cookbook and passed the kites on her way to the checkout. She opted for Pikachu since the Star Wars version was the same as his.



It's been so long now, she can't remember if he ever flew that kite with her. Would she have gone into those catching-up days differently had she known they were finite? She still can't answer that, so she carefully put the memory away. There are others like it on high-up shelves that require tip-toed standing to reach, some still too sharp to handle. Maybe there will be some spring evening where a yellow triangle can be seen flying over the treetops of an Auburn cemetery, anchored by the kind of person who keeps a kite in her car.


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