[FICTION]

[01/19/26]

Four Letter Word That Starts With L

by Kassie Rene

It was early that morning, the sun still low enough to peer underneath the trees and light up the dew on the grass. She rolled her suitcases across the sidewalk and sat down on a bench directly in front of the Lido. With a great sigh, she clicked her phone open to check for the time. 

She was squinting to read a large, white sign in the distance when he arrived and hovered there in front of the bench. 

“Hello.” 

“Hi.” 

“What’s up, Renée?” 

She pointed at the sign and said, “They’re closing the Lido.” 

“Oh,” he said, sitting down beside her on the bench. They both looked straight ahead at the Lido as they spoke.

“We never got to go.” 

“I didn’t think you wanted to,” he said, his eyes following a squirrel on a nearby tree, “anymore.” 

“I would’ve,” she grasped the handle of one of the suitcases, clicked it into the right position, then pushed it down, “if you asked.” 

“Oh,” he said, again. 

She yanked the handle on the suitcase back up. Then clicked it back down. Then up. A magpie let out a squawk. 

“I didn’t think you wanted to,” he said, again. 

“Well, it doesn’t matter now. It’s closing.” 

“Right.” 

She checked the time on her phone. |

“Where are you off to next?” 

“Istanbul.” 

“That will be an adventure.” 

She smiled but continued looking away as she said, “Sure.” 

“You’re not getting tired of it, are you?” 

“A little bit,” she pursed her lips together and popped up the suitcase handle, this time giving it a slight push forward, “but.” 

“You’d hate being still.” 

She nodded. 

“What did you have to say to me, Renée?” 

She pursed her lips again and looked back at the sign, pulling the suitcase close. She tipped it at an angle and used the handle to roll it back and forth.

He said, “Out with it.” 

“Just give me a moment.” 

She turned her head away. It was deadly silent and the suitcase seemed to echo as she slammed it straight up on the sidewalk.

“Just say it.”   

“I —” her voice was shaky, and she stopped. 

“Can’t just go on texting people in the middle of the night demanding they show up in the morning for some kind of talk if you can’t get out the words.” 

“I —” she said, again. She was still looking in that other direction. Her eyes were glossier than a few moments before, slightly wet, but he couldn’t see. 

“Need to say goodbye,” he said, repeating the words from her text. He groaned and leaned forward, placing his elbows on both knees and cradling the back of his head. 

“Christopher!” she said with a seriousness that made him jolt straight up. They were finally looking at one another. 

“I just can’t believe they’re closing the Lido.”