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Excerpt from: “DON’T YOU DARE”
Lilia Adams (‘23)
I’ve been outgoing lately. I’ve talked to the people at the docks, over by the woods, around the neighborhood. I’ve seen a variety of people, everyone that catches my eye. They asked me if I wanted to see them later, and I said of course, but certainty is so difficult to attain. It’s fun to see what everyone has to offer me, what they have to say. Everyone has a different flavor to them, a different aroma, a different look. They are cotton candy clouds, rough scaly monsters, silken angels, and colorful yarn. They smell of resale stores, rich cologne, geranium flowers, and the caustic acid used for copper etching. Their flavors are of sunny paris seasoning, freshly picked figs on a hot summer’s day, and the sour taste of blood. I hold their hands, give them a hug. They are something new to enjoy, a distraction from what I already have, something to sate the boredom of my ordinary love. They help me drift away from those who are so terribly close to me, my emotional suffocation. I didn’t mean to hurt him. Over the next week I visited him when I could. We always met each other at the metal shelter beside the docks. Under it was sharp, crunchy gravel and two rows of benches, containing six each. We always chose the bottom right bench to sit at. The weather each day ranged from vivid and colorful, to blindingly bright, to dim and drenched by the atmosphere’s grief. We killed time by talking and teasing each other. Sometimes we just sat in silence and drank up the comfort of each other’s presence, looking into each other’s eyes. His eyes shone with rings of green and blue, his smile was so wide that it parted his lips subtly at their corners. His orange cheeks were smooth and so wonderful to kiss. His hair was soft, and it curled up at its ends. He was made of... something. Like we all are. Like the alligator man, the doll girl, and the woman who glistens due to her pearlescent skin. He seemed so happy to see me, until yesterday. He was so quiet toward the end. He didn’t squeeze me when we hugged each other goodbye. I head back to the picnic tables again, looking for him. My eyes pass by the benches for a moment, stuck on the lake’s horizon. It’s hot and bright out now, 19
