Shay

Shay's cheeks are crimson, a dead rose pinched between his fingers. We're on the edge of the forest, in my backyard. "I just never had an opportunity to give it to you before. At school, I mean."

I imagine timid Shay wanting and wanting and wanting to give me a rose that dies as his want becomes more profound each and everyday school goes by and we fade further apart. And we fade. And we fade.

But, this time he tucks it amid the curls on my head, smoothing it down, fingers shaking. We're close. But, he just stays there, shaky fingers in my hair, eyes all intense. His lips are parted as if he's about to say something. But, he doesn't. Instead, he just stares. I hide my smile, touching the rose a bit.

"I'll see you when I see you," he says softly, following my eyes with his. He waves slightly, hands shy and uncertain until I wave, too. We laugh at how strange we are behaving.

"See you," I said, not really caring that he could hear me if I spoke softly. I feel buzzed. I imagine us fitting perfectly together when I see him again the way we did in his tree. We're goldfish high up in the blue, little orange dots glittering against space.