The Ferris wheel appeared at the edge of their cornfield. In October, when the cold wind rattled the stalks like secrets whispered.
“Look!” Martin leaned against the walker’s aluminum frame.
She drew the curtains against the gaudy lights. The wheel could turn back time, but it cost. And she had only one ticket this time.
She woke to silence, an absence. The envelope torn. The ticket gone. He must have struggled, crossing the field. She ran, praying.
She lifted her face into the ride’s blue-green glow. The familiar, dark-haired man did not return her wave. He rode past, turning, turning.