Chasing His Kickass Luna Back
We light lanterns, eat sweet street food, and eventually, the music livens even more, if that’s possible.
People begin moving tables and benches out of the way in the center of the square and begin to dance, and before I can protest, Karl has shoved a flower crown onto my head. He’s got one of his own, too, and the color of the petals almost seems to make his eyes shimmer.
“Where did you get these?” I ask, reaching up to touch the flowers.
But Karl doesn’t answer. He just grins, taking my hand, and pulls me into the throng. And for the first time in a long time, we dance. We really dance with nothing holding us back.
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