I have never cared for orange juice with pulp, and I never will. Every morning i follow this routine, this pattern (there is only so long one can stare at their bedroom ceiling before they finally drag themselves out of bed).
The sun teases me from behind my blinds, I watch it splash against my sheets (a rose floral pattern), and glimmer against my skin. The light continues on and playfully dances across my bedroom floor, filling the room. I trace the outline of my fingers carefully against my blanket, making sure not to miss any spots. Once I rise, the subtle croaks and creaks of my house come alive as I pad across my room. I have to squint but my clock reads 7:15, mama would be at work, dad too. I sigh, and shut my door behind me, the house sighing in agreeance.
Rubbing my eyes, when I open them again I have 3 guests staring back at me from across the kitchen table- a plate of waffles decorated in syrup, fresh strawberries, and one glass of pulped orange juice. Every morning mama makes me this same meal, she has for years.
The concept of change and I do not get along, and over the seventeen years I have gotten to know myself it has always been this way. Now things are different, it feels like everything is changing and slipping out from under my feet. You changed me, because people are complicated and feelings are complex. I would have never thought meeting you would make me feel this way and, I would have never thought things would be so different.
YOU ARE READING
softer, softest
Short Story"what's the greatest thing that's ever happened to you?" "you" • In which a boy and a girl meet for the first time and everything is changed.
