In the corner there is a boy.
His edges are blurring into the background.
But then again so are mine.
He's looking at me.
No, into me.
His eyes are brown.
They're also the aftermath of a starry collision, from which new life is born. The end and the beginning of beautiful catastrophe.
But also brown.
We're on a collision course.
YOU ARE READING
Watercolored
Short Story// Wa•ter•col•ored // adjective 1. Painted in watercolors 2. Dripping with art
