boobs not boys

3

6 months before

The time it took for the front door to open felt like a lifetime: From the hollowness of the mahogany wood as my heavily ringed knuckles bruised as they came into contact with the solid frame, to the retreating of my hand which brushed against my dark thighs and juxtaposing denim shorts, my painted blue claws scratched the soft stubble of hairs forming on my legs.

I brushed the hair out of my eyes and pushed my sloping sunglasses up my nose and took a step back from the door.

When it opened, she stared at me and I wondered for a moment if she was trying to sus me out. Eventually embracing me in her thin arms, I take in the smell of hazelnut and strawberry bubblegum, dreading the moment she had to let me go.