people are sleeping but the world is awake. the waves, they dance at the shoreline, spraying their salty mist at our bare ankles. i leave imprints of my feet in the wet sand; it’s a memory of me that will fade within seconds, disappearing forever. i am tired but the golden light that kisses my bare shoulders reminds me that i am alive — that there is something out there for me to look forward to. or at least, something i should try to look forward to. my fingers curl up in the pockets of my shorts, and i keep my hands burrowed in there for the remainder of our walk. he says something, but his voice fades away into the sound of the sea and becomes a murmuring lullaby instead. i loop my arm around his and lean against his body. he pulls me in closer.
he has his mother’s eyes: big, honey-brown, and warm. when he laughs, it’s so pure: there isn’t a tinge of pain or anguish that echoes within it. yet, his eyes tell a different story. when he speaks, there are specks of black that flicker in his irises, pulsating momentarily and then vanishing once he goes silent. so we walk in silence a lot, convincing each other that we are happy and at peace; but our eyes, our eyes always tell a different story.
— n.d.