A quick brush with deep-seated emotions and the art of staying in the closet.
Her embrace iced me in place. She was just a foot shorter than me. Maybe less, yet those black eyes stared back at me as fierce and depth-less as the void. She played music with her eyes that only I could hear. They spoke my language: The language of heartache.
“I love you.”
Three words. Two seconds. Inside, I lay in pieces. Echoes traced goosebumps on my skin.
For the first time, I was naked. I’ve forgotten the difference between being looked at and being seen. I tried to paint away the color of my heart, resisting with all my might the wilderness withheld. Alas, hope pierced through the farce.
Pray tell me there are flowers on Mars.
“I love you, too.” I stammered close to a wail.
A pause. A pitter-patter on my back.
My body boiled with anticipation. What would she say next? Cold sweat ran down the sides of my jaw. What would become of us?