Lily Wang ~ Fields


Eddie sat down first. He had his legs straight out and his elbows down. He low­ered the rest of his body and felt the mois­ture from the grass through the back of his shirt. A box of cig­a­rettes was passed around. I didn’t take one. Voices approached and we couldn’t tell who it was until they reached the atmos­phere of light our col­lect­ed phone screens pro­duced. We opened our cir­cle for the new­com­ers and let our phones dim. Stars start­ed to reveal them­selves. I was struck by how big the sky was.

Someone kept say­ing it was nice. Eddie shiv­ered. I thought we were think­ing of the same thing. Then George came out of nowhere and pulled Eddie’s hood down over his head and the two boys start­ed run­ning after each oth­er. All I could see of them were their white sneak­ers. The girls called after them to be careful.

It was cool enough that there weren’t any bugs. Almost September. George came back and Eddie fol­lowed. For a while we lis­tened to their breaths, then George played music from his phone. He put on a song I didn’t like, then he put on a song I liked. The cig­a­rette box went around again.


No one thought to bring a blan­ket. We found a slope of grass fac­ing the tow­er. It was windy. Sand rose with each gust and even­tu­al­ly we stopped rush­ing to cov­er the cheese and prosciutto.

We drank red wine from the plas­tic cups I picked up at a cor­ner store. My friend played soc­cer with some lit­tle boys. I sent him a photo.

Everyone count­ed down in uni­son. The night filled with flashes.


Dead body. I point­ed to the man on the blue tarp. Red from sun­bathing. I kicked off my san­dals and crossed my legs. Water trick­led from a side­ways bot­tle and soaked through a cor­ner of my tote bag. My friend returned the book I lent him. I felt sor­ry for a sec­ond. He sat down next to me. We looked down at the base­ball dia­mond. The tree he picked was big enough to shade us all. It was a tough hill to climb.

People stopped to let us pet their dogs. The red man nev­er moved. I went home with six new mos­qui­to bites. Gifts to remem­ber the day by, my friend said. I said oh my god.


Lily Wang writes from Toronto. She is the author of the chap­books Everyone in Your Dream is You (Anstruther Press, 2018) and Oh(!) (Dancing Girl Press, 2019). Her work has appeared/is set to appear in: Peach Mag, Cosmonauts Avenue, Bad Nudes, and more. She is the edi­tor of Half a Grapefruit Magazine.