"When great writers and existentialists ask what the meaning is, I'll say you. I'll say I found meaning in your lips and in your hair, and in your skin."
The boy was reclining on a chaise drenched in sunlight. His warm fingers tracing her cheeks, velvety and gentle, pressing into the corners of her mouth where a smile was forming.
"You're sweet."
This girl closes her eyes in the summer heat.
"Wherever you aren't, will be a waste. So, I'll shout your name from rooftops, out of every window, into every inch of space. I want your presence to occupy every atom, every empty corner. The word will become so familiar on my lips, that they'll quiver with the letters, they'll buzz with your name."
Oh god, we're insufferable." He gave her a butterfly thin kiss, laughing into her mouth.
"Shut up. It's poetic when we're alone." She smiles, soft gaze resting on his eyes, his lips. He plays with her hair, twisting it round his finger until it goes white, and unfurling it, wisps of hair falling in a coil.
"Baby, let me cook for you."
She winces, jokingly. "Okay, "Johnny"."
His soft laugh rung out slowly, twisted in her ears. He left her on the chaise, and she lay sleepy in the evening sun. This girl had fallen asleep in the heat, and he'd started on making dinner.
She wandered silently, up the mahogany staircase, along to his bedroom, into his bedroom closet, in search of an over shirt. The warped wooden door barely made a sound.
Snatches of shouts and laughter, pinched at the air from off the street, echoing off the fierceness of the setting sun, gnarled sky pale and sickly.
This girl chopped tomatoes in an irregular manner, fingers soaked in juice, seeds scattered over wood. Like gutting a fish. Watery blood.
"Please tell me you love me and you'll stay true. That you always have been. Say you'll never stray and I'll love you forever."
He winced at the heat of the flames, peering at her hands.
"What's this for?"
"I want someone who'll promise me this one something forever. I wish for that the most." Her hands shake with grief. "And, you can't. You can't do that."
He let the onions burn.
"I love you a lot, but you don't know what you're saying."
"Is that it? Tell me you love me to soften the blow?"
He touches the fabric of her shoulder. "This is my shirt..." His eyes raise to hers. "Did you go in my closet?"
"I didn't know you liked photography so much. Do you take pictures with all your lovers?"
He gapes at her. "I told you not to go in there."
"I was cold." This girl glares as a soft breeze rustles the curtains, as she places the knife on the wooden board. "You have a type don't you Billie? Big brown eyes, dark hair. God. Damn you. Damn you, for fooling me. I am just a girl. I am just a girl with everything to give. Your name will stain my blood, it will etch my heart in deep, vicious and unforgiving initials."
End scene. And it was the end. This girl collapsed in on herself weeping and rusted like a dying star.
YOU ARE READING
FEMANIA
General Fiction❝ it was like the words had been ready to spill at any minute and this moment, with the cherry laced smoke from the new cigarette, and the fresh sweetgrass on the breeze from the school field, the coolness of the Formica tiles on her thighs, and the...
