 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|||||
His eyes dance like stars behind dark lashes. I remember how Joseph's ring glittered before my eyes and how it hurt. I think of how Joseph makes me so tired, so sick and tired of all this. And I just want to—
"I'm going in." I stand up, not bothering to wipe my skirt as I turn and begin walking up to our gate.
"Hey, birthday girl," he calls out behind me.
"Go home, Fyke," I mumble and raise a hand to say goodbye.
"Hey, Anne."
I turn around and see him standing in front of me, with his loose shirt, his spiky hair, the strong cigarette smell which I hate. I quit some time ago.
"Here." He takes my hand and puts something cold in it. I look down and see a thin circle in the middle of my palm.
"What—"
"I know you think my silvers are cheap but I got that for over a hundred bucks and I've only worn it for awhile."
"Fyke, you don't have to—"
"Oh, shut up Anne," he says, waving me off impatiently as he walks back to where we sat. He bends down to pick his guitar up. He looks back at me and grins as he slings it on his shoulder.
"Besides, that may be the only thing you'll ever get from me so you better keep it because I'm going to be famous, sweetheart!"
He turns away and walks across the street to his house, giving me a salute before he disappears inside.
And I stand here twirling his ring in my hand, wondering if I'll ever find an angle where it actually gives off more than a dull, smokey sort of shine.
-END-
