It was a rainy night, the streets littered with bright lights that flashed aggression in our eyes. She walked by my side, pointing out the color of the building we were walking into. The external imagery was of astounding impactfulness, stretching great and wide to that of medieval architecture. I smiled, linking arms with her and guiding her inside.
I frowned as I sat on her couch several months later, a blank piece of paper in my trembling fingertips.
"Lonnie," I brought my aching eyes to greet my cousin's tired expression. She exasperatedly tore the paper from my hands, sighing. I knew what was occurring in that single instant, but the amount of time I was allotted to interpret was minimal at best.
She was perfect. I did not deserve her love.
I received it anyway.
We had taken a drive to a bench one afternoon, notebooks in hand. My tiny feet struggled to catch up with her much larger ones, skipping stones as I kept my eyes glued to the ground.
"Mija," she picked me up. "Count the aeroplanos, how many do you see?"
The planes were white, like everything.
She simply laughed and told me to write that down.
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
Colors Behind the Glass ✓
Thơ Ca[COMPLETED] Lonnie has been through several life-changing events. The most impactful is the death of their abuelita and the loss of someone close to them as they came out as non-binary. They have struggled with coming to terms with these two facts...
