By Alexander DeLancey
I burst into the room, blue and white checkered shirt readied for action. She’s standing at the far end of the room, leaning against a table. She probably didn’t notice it, but the entire room looked gray. She controlled all of the color. Her dress was simple, white, floral. Sheer on the sleeves and across her collar bones. I felt small. She had deep, dark hair that fell onto her shoulders in black waves. I started towards her, only one goal in mind. One plan to execute. A single, sad hope. Her eyes, heart-stopping eyes, guided me towards her. I’m positive that I was no longer in control of my own legs. The smile she flashed was powerful. My stomach reenacted a Olympic gymnastics routine. I approached. She “Hello”ed. A football coach-esque speech played in my mind. This is what separates the boys from men. I leaned in, and kissed her cheek. Success.
Alexander is a college student currently pursuing a MFA. He works, studies, and writes near Pittsburgh, PA.
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