Sweet Dreams
Something that lets me lick the end of the pencil, tongue the lead just a little.
He makes smaller circles, like a cub playing at predator. Instinctual. Clumsy. Big feet and his smell on the wind.
I look up from my doddling and tuck my pencil into my up-do.
“Can I help you find something?” I have my dark red lipstick on. The color that says Open me. Take a peek inside.
“Oh, just looking,” he says. Looking as he says it. Brave boy. Big blue eyes.
I lick my teeth, show the flash of white against the dark. I reach into my hair for my pencil, pull out one long, loose curl that falls down against my neck.