The Feast

They arrived unannounced in the afternoon, when the light had thickened. A man with a slow and deliberate gait. A woman with a nervous gait. And a little girl with scraped elbows. They sat down without a word; the scene was already set. A field of sugary oddities: everything was just a little too bright, too sweet, too colorful to be real. One of them suddenly burst out laughing, for no reason, a laugh that stuck to his fingers. A glass was spilled without excuse, the liquid seeping into the grass like a misplaced thought. The man lay down and stared at the sky, as if he were waiting for an answer. It was hot. Some had faces burned by the sun. Others still bore traces of childhood on their cheeks. And all around them, the world seemed to hesitate: Was it a game? A memory? A ritual?