the orange glow

3 Oct

I asked if he was going to hand out candy for Halloween that night, and I think he said no. I think he said he was going to lock his door and pretend he wasn’t home if anyone cared to knock. Maybe his apartment didn’t allow trick-or-treaters. He probably didn’t have candy anyway. And then I said goodbye to The X, that I’d see him tomorrow, and not that I was slightly disappointed that he didn’t want to hang out with me at home where I might sit outside with my mom and a bucket of candy for kids walking by in costumes. Except for that time he went online and bought me a Tamagotchi in 2006 during an abrupt and severe nineties flashback, nothing he did alone in his apartment was more important than the time he spent being uncomfortable at my house with me, Mom, Dad, and the strange and unfamiliar voice he used when speaking with them. So I drove home alone in the orange glow of six p.m., of Fall, of an unwritten and fading recollection. And I probably sat in the car on my driveway for a minute convincing myself we’ll have plenty of time to be together when I wanted, when I didn’t mind being smothered by his heavy love. There will be plenty of time for him to warm up to the idea that he was mine just as much as I was his.


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