His breath mingled with mine and his lashes fluttered against my skin. Here, I finally felt alive.
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When Aurelia was small, she never imagined her life to be such a mess. She imagined herself going to school, hanging out with friends, and with a bo...
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AURELIA
4 years ago
I didn't want to go back home.
At home, there were long agonized screams in her room. At home, Mom and Dad sipped tea in the living room like they couldn't hear. At home, Keegan and I would hide in the attic and read to each other. At home, I pretended like everything was okay. At home, I felt like my mind was unraveling.
I had walked away from the boy's house, my mind swirling with confusion. He seemed void of life, like a husk of a person. Underneath all that anger and that sadness, I could tell that there used to be a boy. He was kind, I thought to myself as I tucked my hair underneath the hood of his sweater.
It smelled like him.
I smelled like him.
I ended up not going back home. Matter of fact, I didn't stray far from his home. Shivering in my uniform, I crossed the street and walked over to the strip mall. It was around six in the afternoon and my phone hadn't ringed once.
In front of me, there was a grocery store, a thrift store, a small bookstore, a few restaurants, an ice cream shop, and a small bakery. I moved across the parking lot and stepped up onto the sidewalk. The Chinese restaurant ahead of me was closed and so I moved down the sidewalk and into the ice cream store.
The bell on the door rang as I walked in and the guy behind the counter looked up from his phone. He offered me a smile before looking back down at his screen. The only other people in the store were an older couple who ate ice cream and talked to each other softly.
I checked my pockets and found a five-dollar bill tucked into my shirt pocket. I moved to the counter and waited for the guy to stand up. When he did, I asked him for two scoops: one cotton candy, the other lemon sherbert. When he handed me the cup and I paid, I moved to the opposite end of the store, tucking myself into the booth.
I stared at the two distinct colors in my cup.
In the summer, Bianca and I would each get a scoop of ice cream and sit on the sidewalk in front of our house to eat it. We'd giggle and talk as we each ate from our scoops. No matter how much she loved the color yellow, she hated the taste of lemons. She always picked cotton candy and I always picked lemon sherbert.
The guy behind the counter handed me three spoons along with some napkins. I stared at them on the table, feeling immense sadness crawl over me. I leaned my head against the wall and picked up a spoon, digging it into the scoop of sherbert.
I tucked my legs underneath me in hopes of covering my exposed legs. It was cold in here.
I watched the guy who worked behind the counter approach me. He didn't have his phone in his hand or any more napkins or spoons. He took a seat across from me and I sat up, watching him in confusion.
