"This looks interesting," she says, "'Flower.'" Dee glances at the date. "You wrote this two days ago."
"Yeah," I reply.
"And you haven't thought to share it with me yet?" she asks.
"Well it isn't finished yet. I'm writing it for Professor Larson's class."
"Larson?" Dee glances down at her phone and taps the screen a few times so that it wakes up. "Professor Larson's class, as in the one you have in forty-five minutes?"
"Uhhhh- yes?"
"Then what are you doing here? You should be writing!"
"Well-"
"No, never mind, I'll help."
"You? The poli-sci major?" I ask trying not to scoff.
"Yes me dummy, you clearly don't have the ability to do it on your own terms. Now lets see." Dee's eyes dart across the page. I notice how dry my mouth has been as I watch her and reach for my glass of what had once been a Coca-Cola. The golden-brown liquid had long since been consumed, but the sun had melted the remaining ice cubes just enough to create a light brown sip of coke flavored water at the bottom. I tilt the glass back and down the last sip. It's cool on my tongue and returns some moisture to my mouth. I allow one of the ice cubes to slide past my lips and tuck it in my right cheek with my tongue. It's cold enough to sting a little but I let it sit there anyway. The icy slickness of the cube is refreshing against the heat of the day. Dee is absorbed in the journal muttering words to herself. I blink and then blush after I realize I had been staring. The ice cube has already melted down to a third of its original size. I push it between my teeth and crunch down to finish it off.
Dee reaches a hand into her bag without removing her eyes from the page. She pulls out a dull No.2 pencil riddled with bite marks. I lunge across the table in defense but she only slaps my hand away and I slump back down to my side.
"You're going to ruin it," I protest.
"No, I'm fixing it," She responds.
I stand up, flustered, and walk around the table. Dee doesn't even glance up as I place my hand on the back of her chair and peer over her shoulder. I cock my head to the side as I read what she wrote:
"Flower" - 4/17/23
My life is like a flower
Doesn't that sound nice?
My life is like a flower
Little will suffice
I look so vibrant standing there
A living breathing thing
An empty thoughtless creature
No won'drous dreams to sing
I look so vibrant standing their
To amuse the passerby
My stem is strong, my face is pretty
But inside I see a lie
I struggle to keep appearances
So the lookers can be happy
For when I droop, and sink
They frown and call me 'scrappy'
With winter comes cruel coldness
Much too much to bear
And so I whither, shrivel, brown
YOU ARE READING
Simple Complexity
Short StoryDo you know the feeling? Probably. Probably not. That moment when you glance up and see them for the first time and are taken aback. That moment where they stick out their hand to introduce themselves and you wait an uncomfortable amount of time to...
A Simple Complexity
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