i have very mixed feelings about sparkly nail polish.
Lazy Wet Thursday Without the Metaphors


There was a boy in the elevator.

He had a scruffy brown beard and scruffy brown hairs that curled down in nice ways. I liked his peeling leather lapels and the way his eyes looked when they looked at mine. There was something about his Adam’s apple too, the way it jutted out quietly like a weathered cliff, in that oddly attractive way that only certain boys have.

There was a girl in the elevator too.

I don’t remember much about her, other than the fact that she stood in front of him and a little to the left, with pale orange hair that reached halfway down her back, and she breathed along with us (us!) in the elevator. The rest of her features were blurred out to me, darkened and dull in the shadow of the boy.

And then the door slid open on some floor that wasn’t mine, and they got off, but not together, and I watched as she went left and he went right. I stayed inside, going up to someplace where he wouldn’t be, somewhere that didn’t matter very much at all. So I saw his shadow get swallowed by the private sunset of the humming hallway lights; such a shame, such a beautiful shape.

(I wrote this bit of prose for a school publication last year)