Sasha caught a butterfly in his hands. We all ran up alongside him as he walked towards the barn at the far corner of the field. He was very slow and no one believed he’d caught it.
He refused to let us look at it. Jack told him he was a liar but we’d all seen it fly into Sasha’s hand. He walked and said nothing and had a long time yet to walk. The pretty girls could not convince him to open his hands a little.
Sam was bored and went back. I followed her through the tall grass and watched her hair dance in the wind.
“Go with them,” she said.
“They’re going to stick a pin through it,” I said.
“Who cares.” She looked at me for a long time and I started to lose my balance. “Catch me one.”
I looked at the butterflies and the dragonflies and the trees to the east and the sky swallowing the mountains. Sam walked further away and I didn’t follow but I watched her pick flowers and sing softly and pretend she didn’t know I was still there.
Sasha came back later and told me that it was some kind of butterfly that the farmer didn’t recognize, that the farmer had killed it and that the farmer was planning to take pictures and mail them to a university.
“Who cares,” I said, and Sam pretended not to hear.
This week’s one word prompt is: butterfly