Butterflies

The corner behind the stairs was declared. The corner in the library was as well. Every corner everywhere had been withdrawn from view. Clothes so dark, make-up so black. So lonely. So afraid. So solemn. In a different world with a different view. That one ray of sunshine streaking in through the huge skylight. The sound of scuffling shoes. The rhythmic beat of chairs being pulled in and out and in and out. The lunch keypads rumbling as students enter their number to have an amount of money withdrawn from their parents’ fund. Slowly, a breeze across my hand can be felt. As if it were a slimy looking snake, I am at first startled. Butterflies are zooming. My head is whirling. Soon, I realize what the little breeze on my hand was. Your hand attempting to grab mine. Finger by finger, our hands intertwine. I can feel the coldness of your pale, white skin. Your nails are groomed as if you had just had a manicure. Smooth. Soft. Soothing. Awkwardly, we make eye contact. I quickly glance down as I can still see you starring at me. I look back to see your beautiful brown eyes. So big and bright and comforting. This time, I don’t rush to look at the ground. I keep gazing into your hypnotizing eyes.





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