Thirty One

And that was how Vincent and I ended up on the ever so cliché Ferris wheel, sitting side-by-side in silence as the wind blew gently, the excruciatingly slow wheel taking us higher into the purple sky. I snuck a look in his direction a few times, admiring the way shades of orange, purple and red contrasted against his fair skin, emphasizing every sharp contour and bend on the profile of his face.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" He said softly, and I nodded slowly, almost in a daze.

"Yes..."

"I saw what you did for Anya back there," he said, leaning against the steel bar, the only thing holding us from accidentally falling out of the rusty, unstable, swinging cart. "Those kids were bothering her, weren't they?"

I pressed my lips together, "I promised her not to tell."

He chuckled softly. "I've had enough calls from the kindergarten to know what's going on. I always told the teachers to be on the lookout and to stop things from escalating, but even they could only do so much."