Is there such a thing as summer love?
The guy behind the counter that you hit it off with immediately. Late night car rides seeing if you live in the same direction as you both leave the closing shift. Becoming a thief, stealing glances before the end of the night. Counting the days till you work with him again or the last time you'll see him before you leave. Holding on to the idea that this could work. Nurturing it like a sprout to the point that it becomes overwatered and starts to lean. His roots are here, in this town. You can't just dig up two generations after the span of two months and hope he survives in the new soil. You don't have the house space for a potted plant or the backyard for an oak tree of a love to grow. You'll either spend too much time with him in the sun and burn or neglect him with little conversation and no carbon dioxide to breathe.