He sat on my grandmother’s couch, looking at me like the sun. I acted like I couldn’t see him, but the truth was he was all I could see. There were others there, but in the dreamy haze all I saw was him. All subtlety and curls.
I stalled so I could see him just a moment longer. And then I woke up, 3 am. And as much as I wanted to remember him, he quickly faded out of my memory and I was left with just a smokey imprint of him on my grandma’s couch, looking up at me like he’d never see me again. I wanted to live in his stare.