boobs not boys

3

6 months before

The time it took for the front door to open it felt like a lifetime: From the hollowness of the mahogany wood as my heavily ringed tanned knuckles bruised as they came in contact with the solid frame, to the retreating of my hand which brushed against my dark thighs and contrasting white denim shorts, my painted blue claws scratched the soft stubble of hairs forming on my legs.

I brushed the hair out of my eyes and pushed my sloping sunglasses up my ski slope nose and took a step back from the door.

When it opened, she stared at me and I wondered if she is trying to figure me out. Embracing me in her thin arms, I take in the smell of hazelnut and strawberry bubble gum, dreading the moment she had to let me go.