a friday night 8:29pm
The cicadas were really loud. And the sky looked as if it were a painting wrapped around the earths sphere. Slowly being shifted to the left. A light possibly being held on the outside. Beaming straight onto the back of it. From that, the very edge of those clouds were traced with neon yellow. The gaps full of faint pinks and blue. A cold blue.
The weather, slightly humid. It kept the skin dewy. Bought a shine to the protruding bone of his eyebrows, tip of his nose, apples of his cheeks, and his cupid's bow.
His hand was sweaty. But the look on his face whenever he glanced over his shoulder made me hang on just a bit tighter.
Our steps were loud but light and consistent. Rushing over cemented sidewalks and trees planted perfectly symmetrical. He seemed happy.
So happy. Enough to make me want a picture of that very scenery. Instead I had only the chance of burning it into the back of my eyelids. Into the intangible area of my thoughts.
I caught every detail perfectly. That may have been the only upside to it all. The ending sunlight and its beams radiating behind his silhouette, blurring over his face and creating dots of glares. His long lashes and wide smile. And the periphery of his upper half a shade lighter than normal.
He blended into the sky. Almost as if he were made to stand before it. A still image that should be glued onto what stood behind him. At moments like these when the sun wasn't high but subdued. It's last bursts of effort illuminating the world just slightly. He was put together from above. And only permitted to be seen beside and against beauties such as the azure.
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