I close my eyes, and there he is again.
He pressed his soul up against my memories, leaving his fingerprints behind everywhere.
“You’re doin’ it, aren’t you? Right now. You’re already halfway gone.”
His face shatters before my eyes…
He starts to fade, and I blink,
trying to stay with him,
trying to hold the shape of his mouth in my head long enough to taste it.
Then I hear a male’s voice.
Nothim.This one’s real.
Says, “What’s up, ma?”
Black fitted tee. White Air Force 1s, spotless.
Fade tight. Beard trimmed.
“You just gon’ stand there lookin’ that good and not move?”
My eyes stayed glued to Celie?—
“Ich muss so tun, als würde ich kein Englisch sprechen, weil Typen wie du nicht wissen, wann sie sich verpissen sollen.”Translation: I have to pretend I don’t speak English because guys like you don’t know when to fuck off.
He blinks, tilting his head.
Then his mouth moves slower when he says,
“Do. You. Know. English?”
He draws it out,
each word dripping with condescension.
I turn with a sugary smile.
“Funkel, funkel, kleiner Stern, wie ich mich frage, was du bist.”Twinkle, twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are.
And that about sums up my German.
He freezes, eyes narrowing.
“No English? Aight. No worries.”
He turns on his heel and bolts.
My smile falls away,
my attention drifting back to Celie.
She’s glowing under the strobes?—
wild, carefree, alive,
