“Stop it,” I hiss to him as he pinches my arm yet again. “I mean it.”
He looks at me, a smirk forming on the corners of his lips as he throws his face away from mine. The lecturer keeps rambling about something I lost interest in two hours ago. And so has the boy to my right. His face is elated as he stares blankly at the woman in front of the room, his mouth opening to let a yawn come through.
“Can we leave?” He whispers to me hastily. I look at him in confusion before shaking my head.
“Please, I went to church yesterday, I don’t want to hear another preacher before this Sunday,” he pleads, looking at me with his chocolate brown eyes.
“I’ll join you outside in 5,” I murmur, and he immediately leaves the room. I look at the clock and wait.
“You should’ve stayed in there, seemed like some good life advice for you,” he smirks at me as I get inside his car. “Maybe it could have pulled you out of your dark corner over there.”
He points to the side of my head, just right above my ear, his eyes lazily looking over his finger. He shrugs and starts to drive, and I don’t utter a word. We sit in silence until he decides to turn on the radio and hums along.
“It could never be as effective as you are,” I say, and he glances in my direction before focusing on the road yet again. “The lecture. I couldn’t ever benefit from her words as much as I can from being here with you.”
He keeps his eyes on the road as we turn left, his mouth still shut. I face forward again, and I see his eyes dart towards me from the corner of my eyes. He parks us next to the ice cream parlour a few blocks away from my house and leaves the car to open my door.
“You’ll benefit much more from ice cream.” His tone is flat as he closes the car door. “Trust me.”
“I do trust you,” I respond immediately, and a smile forms weakly on his face.
“Why do you think so highly of me?” He hands over money to the cash register with a smile before turning to me. “What have I ever done to deserve this?”
We take our ice cream and sit down outside, watching the empty streets of the 9 a.m. Tuesday. I don’t look at him, and he doesn’t look at me. We eat our ice cream in a quiet silence.
“Maybe it’s you who is in a dark corner,” I say to him.
“And maybe it’s you who is pulling me out.” He tosses his ice cream cup into the trash carelessly. He reaches out to hold my hand with a small smile.
“Or maybe we’re both in a dark corner, just waiting for the other to turn on the light.”
Katya Tjahaja
He looks at me, a smirk forming on the corners of his lips as he throws his face away from mine. The lecturer keeps rambling about something I lost interest in two hours ago. And so has the boy to my right. His face is elated as he stares blankly at the woman in front of the room, his mouth opening to let a yawn come through.
“Can we leave?” He whispers to me hastily. I look at him in confusion before shaking my head.
“Please, I went to church yesterday, I don’t want to hear another preacher before this Sunday,” he pleads, looking at me with his chocolate brown eyes.
“I’ll join you outside in 5,” I murmur, and he immediately leaves the room. I look at the clock and wait.
“You should’ve stayed in there, seemed like some good life advice for you,” he smirks at me as I get inside his car. “Maybe it could have pulled you out of your dark corner over there.”
He points to the side of my head, just right above my ear, his eyes lazily looking over his finger. He shrugs and starts to drive, and I don’t utter a word. We sit in silence until he decides to turn on the radio and hums along.
“It could never be as effective as you are,” I say, and he glances in my direction before focusing on the road yet again. “The lecture. I couldn’t ever benefit from her words as much as I can from being here with you.”
He keeps his eyes on the road as we turn left, his mouth still shut. I face forward again, and I see his eyes dart towards me from the corner of my eyes. He parks us next to the ice cream parlour a few blocks away from my house and leaves the car to open my door.
“You’ll benefit much more from ice cream.” His tone is flat as he closes the car door. “Trust me.”
“I do trust you,” I respond immediately, and a smile forms weakly on his face.
“Why do you think so highly of me?” He hands over money to the cash register with a smile before turning to me. “What have I ever done to deserve this?”
We take our ice cream and sit down outside, watching the empty streets of the 9 a.m. Tuesday. I don’t look at him, and he doesn’t look at me. We eat our ice cream in a quiet silence.
“Maybe it’s you who is in a dark corner,” I say to him.
“And maybe it’s you who is pulling me out.” He tosses his ice cream cup into the trash carelessly. He reaches out to hold my hand with a small smile.
“Or maybe we’re both in a dark corner, just waiting for the other to turn on the light.”
Katya Tjahaja
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