We were what I didn’t realize, and I had fallen back to sleep. Later in the morning, men would glow greenly beneath canopies of leaves, readying their saws for the day’s work. Heedless of the kindness being showered upon them. Is it true that love is merely a collection of small fears? Like golden eyes, wisdom peered and sap rained down through the branches. It was sap, wasn’t it? Giggling late into the night, safe in our sheltered lair, we cried and planned and feasted on olives, while pages of dusty butterfly wings fluttered on a metallic breeze. And then a rainy morning smelling of vinyl. And then the next day, when we, unaccustomed to light, were jarred awake by silence and a cacophonous riot of unfiltered sun.
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Ulrich Scharwachter/Pexels