Girl Talk

Elisha Chen

My friend, I cannot forget your hand. You pulled me into a hug, and I knew shirts were too thin. I knew I could only hold you in the winter, under layers to freeze. Borrowed shorts at the beach, birthday cards that read “Happy Father’s Day,” fingers made to link sweaty palms, impromptu calls in the afternoon, and blurring faces in the living room. How could I know it was possible for a person to give more than they promised? That day we met, on a blacktop burning our rubber soles, you offered a hand, and I fell. |