Taking the devil’s arm…

All the things you cannot want. That is the cost of freedom. To breath your first lungful, feeling like you could reach into the night sky and grab the stars. That first time when dream and reality merge. Before life smacks you around. In weeks, months if you’re lucky, the jadedness (or whatever it’s called) will descend. Life is a bitch… Life is hard, and then you die. Monsters be here…

He had the kind of face that sat on an ebony black Arabian on the front lines of a battle field. A Marcus Aurellius kind of face. His presence had the effect of a scalpel and a hammer at the same time. He did not see her.

Like a hero in a biker erotica mixed in with a billionaire rockstar with just the right amount of werewolf. In the back of her mind, right next to the place she kept the erotica memories, she knew none of that was true. She knew that he was not really like that. She sat on her desk. Knowing exactly where he was. If anyone looked her way, she would be where she always was on week nights. In her corner. They would see her foot tapping rhythmically on the ground, they would think that it was how she studied. She did not even know that she did it.

He was moving towards her. She turned the page. Her sweaty palms made it easier. He sat on the chair opposite hers and waited. She raised her eyes. Seeing him for the first time. Even then she could not shake the avenging angel mirage.

“Oh good, you’re studying torts too. Mind if I pick your brain. He just posted the mid sem exams online. You are S. Kawira, right?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, 99%. How does that feel?”

“I really have to study.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. Think we could do it together?”

She creates a cheat sheet. The next morning, she gives it to him. He smiles and touches her arm. Until the next class…


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