He looked at me—I was smiling, isolated, only my mouth and not the eyes or cheekbones or eyebrows like you’re supposed to do on stage. Yet I felt like I was on a stage, hands hugging my hips in my pajama pants, poised accusingly next to the microwave as my coffee reheated, pointed at by the eyes of the guilty. And me, just as guilty. I stared back.
He was at the door, half a step away. An orb of longing hung between them—they wanted to kiss but they knew they couldn’t. He fumbled wondering if he should say something more, “Well…bye…everyone…” And walked out.
Lis was a small hidden smile in the middle of the room.
The eastern sun blinked through the flapping blinds of the door. There were bigger things.
2 comments:
cool. i really like the "lis was a small hidden smile..." i like that she was, instead of had. your style is so pretty, like looking at art.
lurvlurv
i could feel the tension as i read this. i had to read this multiple times cuz it was so good. and because i know things.
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