The words she mumbled blurred my environment, a sharp sting to my delighted mood shook me apart, drowning me in thoughts that made me feel useless and shamefully stupid.
"My brother," she said, her voice getting
lost
in the trace of
s i l e n c e.
"Oh,"
I answered, taken aback,
"I thought you were an only child, I've never seen you with somebody else, and
you've never mentioned your family."
A bunch of air flowed back into my lungs. I brushed the sweat off my palms with my pants.
"Well I thought you'd be the kind of girl who liked ballet,
so I bought two tickets for The Swan's Lake which-
I insisted, searching in the pocket of my coat- reminds me,
I think you deserve to have this back," I added,
handing her back the little black book with the delicate swan on the front cover.
Her eyebrows
shot upwards
and her eyes looked at me
with plead and sincerity.
"How far have you read?"
I exhaled.
"None of it.
I'm not even gonna ask. It's obiously too important to you."
Her shoulders relaxed and she composed her posture just a little bit.
"Thanks."
"So, shall we go in?"
"Absolutely."
YOU ARE READING
I named her Africa #Wattys2015
PoetryI didn't mind if my fingertips were rusted with coffee grounds, or if my palm still hosted bread crumbs, I reached out my hand across the table, and you squeezed it but proved me wrong. My mind was spiraling, my heart, unstable. ____________________...
