"you're late. why am i not surprised?"
sorry kenchan, it was-
"traffic, i know. you've said that for the last-"
million times, i know.
it's strange, how your smile climbs a little higher on your left. it could be called a smirk, i suppose. but it seems so lost on that childlike face of yours. i love the way the sun shimmers on your lips.
"so, um, want to walk around for a while?"
that would be nice.
you clumsily try to balance the bicycle at your side and hold my hand. i laugh as you finally give up on the bike and let it fall to the ground. and as soon as i realize you are holding my hand,
holding my hand on this bright summer day
that is all you are doing
holding my hand
and i can't help but stare as the bike hits the ground. i am suddenly fascinated by the leaves as the explode and fall all around your shiny black bicycle. i close my eyes for a second, and listen to the crush and sigh of the dead leaves. i want to think of anything except
why are you holding my hand?
damn kenchan, you have a really dirty school. look at all this garbage lost in the leaves.
"well, sorry, this ain't Zobel."
you puff up your chest like a rooster, proud and full of air. i feel like if i poke your side, you'll lose all your steam in one great rush, and fly away into this bright summer sky. so much like a child.
and i am suddenly aware of the old tree rising above us. the branches reach out above me like twisted old limbs, but delicately hold such green leaves. i find myself looking up, up, as high as my eyes can fall back.
"What are you doing, jamila?"
my hand in yours i could not let go of you if i tried and my feet planted firmly on this leave encrusted ground, i lift up my left arm. up, up, as high as my eyes can fall back.
"jamila?"
i'm trying to hold back the sun.
and i can see it, bright and hot, trembling in between my fingers. the sun melts through the silky green leaves, and my hand is burning red, all over, and i am strong. in this moment, i have never been weak, and i have never cried, and i have never been hurt. in this moment, i am holding your hand stronger than the sun.
"jamila..."
and you are suddenly kissing me never letting go of my hand, kissing me like you have loved me all along. your lips are soft and dry, your tongue hard and wet. your passion unsure, your body tense, but you are no longer a child.
your kiss is like a sun i am holding back.
"jamila..."
...yes?
"are you happy?"
and i let go of your hand