write me

1:24 p.m.

February 18.

"What do you like to do?"

I glanced at him.

"Reading, painting, and not talking."

"Aww don't be so mean!" He handed me the other triangle half to his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Again?"

He nodded. "Peanut butter and jelly is fan-tastic."

I stared at it. I noticed that the crust was cut off.

"Crust is not fantastic," he said, as if reading my mind. "So what do you like to paint? Pokemon?"

I shook my head.

"Wow, now there's no way I can guess," Oliver replied, half-joking. "I want you to talk to meee."

I didn't say anything until I finished eating. "Space."

"Like...astronauts?"

I shook my head again. "The stars. The planets. Comets, meteors, galaxies."

"Why?"

"Why?" I echoed.

"Why," he stated.

I haven't even bothered to wonder "why." Because I like it? Because it's easy? Because it challenges myself?

"Colors," I replied simply. "It's just all the different colors, Oliver." I surprised myself by saying his name for the first time.

If he noticed, he didn't make any deal of it.

I suddenly couldn't stop talking. I would talk about how I could fit the entire rainbow onto one canvas. Planets were warm colors, and the void around those planets were cool colors. Meteors would be a mix of neutrals and the moon would be white. No. Silver. I always made our moon silver.

"Silver? Not just grey, silver?" he asked.

I closed my mouth and just nodded.

I could feel him looking at me, so I kept my eyes down at a ladybug on the grass.

"I guess you're done talking." He sat up. "Why not paint a sunset or sunrise?"

I paused. "They begin and end in almost an instant. Space is...forever..." I replied lamely.

The bell rang and I jumped up and left, stuffing the unfinished sandwich in my mouth.