The Secrets of the Bad Boy
The smoke, her sweatshirt, the sky, her eyes, my slippers, the sidewalk, the street, my nail polish.
Everything was gray and it wasn't boring or bland. Gray for those minutes was the best of colors. How good gray can feel sometimes.
“Do you know how to make shapes with smoke like Alice's caterpillar?” I smiled at my silliness.
He frowned, “I don't come from Wonderland.”
Oh, I swore I did, how does a wonder like you not belong there?
“Try it, okay?” I asked as a little girl.
"No."
"Please."
“It's useless, you can't make shapes with smoke.”
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