While it’s one of the first things I’d say I would never admit, back during my freshman year at college, my favorite part of every weekday were the hours between my final literature course and when the sun went down. The open sky above the the aging building of the liberal arts school I would be living at for the next year or so turned the most relaxing shade of cyan as the golden rays of the sun pressed their lips against every western facing brick or lawn. My dorm, a building several blocks form the main campus, was also right next a park, where I could here the quacking of ducks and chirping of cicadas during warm months before autumn set in full swing. I’d walk from my class, my brain exhausted from the day’s mental strains, and listen to the birds singing their songs in the trees growing from the wide sidewalks while my body basked in light the color of honey. A grey tabby cat with snowy white mittens lived on the street, and it would follow me from the corner of the street to the bottom steps of the apartment entrance. Sometimes it would talk and I’d talk back, telling it how frustrating my instructor had been or how interesting my class was, and other times I would just let it meow at me, since it was probably just hungry.

It was then, during the final faltering days of summer, as all the greenery gave way to deep reds and caramel browns, that I woke up late for my physics class. I panicked, being the type to feel a bit more nescient without having the time set aside to focus on first-hand studies. It was more rational to assume I should simply take a break, prepare for my next course and get in touch with a fellow student later to go over what I’d missed, but whenever I panic, I rarely think things through all that thoroughly.

After pacing for a minute in my bedroom, I quickly ducked into the kitchen of the two-bedder, figuring a deep breath and some strawberries might clear my head. Of course, it wasn’t until after I’d poured a full glass of milk and leaned against the counter to calm down that my roommate, who I barely ever saw in person, burst through the front door, fully dressed and toting a backpack stuffed with supplies. Once again, I was sent into a panic, since I was in nothing but a sweater and briefs (when I lounge, I really lounge) and tugged down the hem to cover my general groin area in a weak attempt to maintain some form of decendy. My roommate stopped in his tracks and eyed me, in a way that told me he was a little stunned and embarrassed. Not that I was experiencing any of that either.

“Oh,” was the first thing he said.

I tugged my shirt further down. “Sorry. I overslept...and forgot you had a break before your lab...”

“Don’t sweat it, Akio,” my roomate had said, “I guess you don’t have too much to be shy about from here on out, right?”

And with that, like a butterfly off on a spring breeze, the guy was in his room, leaving me half-naked and flustered in the kitchen. By that point, as the extra doses of sudden adrenaline began to die out, that I calmly sorted in my head how to handle the rest of the day and returned to my room to put on a some form of clothing over my legs. I tugged on a pair of light washed jeans and switched from my black sweater to a blue shirt with three white buttons below the next. After tugging on my favorite purple converses, I gathered what books I needed for the remainder of the day, checked over pencil supply, picked a playlist on my phone and quickly jogged from my room to the outside world.

I was immediately greeted with a wave of cool air and a deep blue sky patched with puffy white clouds. A smell that reminded me of the lilacs that grew in the alley behind my parent’s house wafted in from the park and I breathed every bit of the scent in, eyes closed, hands clasped to my backpack. Almost immediately after soaking up the fresh air, the idea popped into my head for what to do with my freetime. Midterms were in a few weeks, but not soon enough to warrant a cram before class, so with the succulent smells of flowers riding on the tips of a cool breeze, I went the opposite direction from the campus and headed toward the alley several blocks away that abounded with small shops.

I visited one cafe in particular, buying a small bag of pink macarons and an egg coffee. The outside seating area wasn’t too full, so I picked a table toward the end and sat at it, setting down my backpack on the chair across from me. The table was complete with a white cloth covering its edges, a mason jar with yellow dahlias sticking out set in the center and a few glass pebbles lying around. Some distance away, opposite the cafe itself, was the center of the little square, where stood a giant fountain that was surrounded by sauntering day workers on their first-shift breaks, moms with their toddlers and lazy looking teenagers probably playing hooky. I observed them, quietly, as I also observed a pack of pigeons eating crumbs near my table and a german shepherd that wandered from person to person in the main thoroughfare. It eventually made it to me, scaring away the pigeons, and leaned it’s nose toward my leg. I remained still, in an attempt not to frighten him but also keep him from getting too nosey. Normally I’m alright with dogs, but the last thing I needed was to feed one a macaron or let it follow me home. Taking the hint that I was uninterested, the german shepherd let out a kind of whine, hovered for another second, then moved to the young couple seated several tables down from me. I quietly let out a sigh.

“He doesn’t do that often,” a voice muttered from behind me.

I flinched, not knowing there had been anyone so close to me, and quickly turned to see who it was, an action that nearly threw me from my seat.

It was some guy, about the same age as myself (possibly older?) standing at the side of table directly behind me. He was wearing a dark green baseball jacket over a white v-neck t-shirt and pitch black jeans. His hair, black as oil at its roots, faded into an emerald green color toward the tips, shimmering like bird feathers do in the sunlight. In one hand he held a glass bottled soda, while in the other he grasped a steaming bread pastry, a bun of some kind with icing drizzled on top. His eyes widened at my sudden movement, as if someone becoming flustered over being addressed from behind wasn’t normal, and he lifted his shoulders in a kind of guarded stance.

“Gosh, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he blurted out, “I’m so sorry!”

I let out a sigh and leaned back in my seat. “I just didn’t know there was anyone around. Big dogs kind of make me nervous.”

The guy chuckled, leaning against his table. “That old thing wanders around looking for scraps all the time. He likes this street in particular, since there’s always new students coming over from the college and tourists visiting from the hotel on Third.”

“Oh, that’s where I’m from,” I said, “Not the hotel, I’m from the college. My housing is just a few blocks away.”

“Well isn’t that interesting. I’m used to seeing all the new students by this point in the year. They come to the cafe and then get bored or bogged down by studying.”

“Do you work here?”

“Not officially. I help clean whenever they’re low on staff. Today the usual baker isn’t feeling well so they have me picking up slack. I’m Makoto, by the way. Lots of students come by here so I like for people to get to know me.”

He pauses and I wait. I have to admit I’d become slightly distracted while he was talking. Naturally, part of it was the process of my body returning to not being frightened and pumping with adrenaline. The other part was something else entirely, something I wouldn’t really notice until a lot later. At the moment, I was simply looking into the dark center of his scalp and wondering how exactly the color was fading so nicely. I snapped out of it when I noticed the sudden silence and let out a nervous laugh.

“Sorry, I just- I zone out when I’m surprised. What did you say?”

He laughed back. “I’m Makoto. And you would be?”

“I’m so rude, I’m sorry. My name’s Akio. I transferred from an advanced academy in the southern region and started here a few weeks ago. You haven’t seen me because I don’t get out much. I’m either in class or studying. I came to this spot during the tour last summer and figured I’d visit it again today. I slept through my first class so I figured the best way to avoid my anxiety is to take a quick stroll.”

Makoto offered his hand. “A pleasure.”

I took his hand and just held it. I’d always been the worst at greeting people like this, ever since I can remember. A girl had made a comment during my earlier years at school that a tough handshake meant a man was strong and good. I’ve only bumped knuckles ever since, though it was the last thing that fit my personality in any way. Since then I’d come to understand than anyone with too firm a handshake was someone to just look out for instead of respect, and that in the end it wasn’t all that important anyway. Still, it made me feel kind of nervous when meeting hands with a stranger. Most of the time, people would grasp it and just hold it there until it got too awkward. Makoto, however, gave my palm a soft squeeze before letting go. It was a quick and deft movement, but it caught me off guard anyway.

“You took a stroll to the right place,” Makoto continued, folding his arms while still holding tight to his pastry and beverage, “Sure, the dog likes to beg in front of people but he never hurts anyone. Aside from him, this is a pretty quiet spot, most romantic in the city during the afternoons when the sun’s going down. If you ever got more free time you should come by and see me. I’m all over this spot once the lamps go on.”

“Of course,” I said, “I’m always in the mood for more scares.”

Makoto’s features sunk. “Oh, right. I’m still really sorry. You just looked so freaked out by the dog, I just wanted to-”

I lifted a hand and gave him a grin. I hadn’t meant for him to feel that bad. “I’m only messing with you. I’ll try to come by here more. It is a lovely place, I just study a lot.”

Makoto, who had briefly looked both relieved and flustered at my fooling around, quickly switched to giving me a giant mock frown of disappointment. "That sounds like no fun. My suggestion; skip this morning class more."

I stood, the mention of class reminding me that my second course was going to be starting in an hour and it wouldn't be a bad idea to get back to campus early in order to be certain I made it. I finished my egg coffee, but realized I have one more macaron and held it toward him.

"Speaking of class, I have another coming up soon," I told him, "Here. Have my last one. A gesture of good will."

He smirked, in a way that made me think of baseball pitcher striking a guy out and secretly feeling unsportsmanly happy about it, taking the macaron and popping it into his mouth. "The dog licked this one, didn't it."

He was being sarcastic of course, but I didn't let him jab too hard. "Maybe I licked it."

That made him pause. Honestly, it had made me pause too.

Yeah. That might've taken it too far.

"I really should go," I muttered, breaking the sudden awkward silence, "I don't want to be late."

With that, I turned away and began to make a beeline for the corner of the street so I could return to the sidewalk that lead like a path to campus. I noticed the german shepherd on the other side of the thoroughfare, eyeing me with a kind of humorous gaze. Ignoring him I continued, and just as I reached the last lamp post by the bakery, I heard a voice behind me, once again.

"You're cool," Makoto practically shouted, "Can we get boba tea some time?"

I looked over my shoulder, though I still kept a steady pace. He'd run to the fountain but had stopped to holler.

Without thinking, I replied. "I'd like that!"

And then I made my way around the corner, and he and the fountain and the dog and the cafe were all lost to the eye. Once again, the scent of flowers from the park rolled over me, only this time there was another scent tinged to them that I hadn't noticed until now; that slight hint of fresh grass that could only be smelled in the late morning of a warm day in early autumn. It made my heart nearly burst from my chest. I may or may not have skipped several times until I reached campus, nearly out of breath.

I loved boba tea.

And the color green.

my eyes open

the waves are crashing outside

and the sheets next to me are empty

and cold

I reach over and grasp them tightly with my hands

wondering where the night went

wanting it to come back

as I gaze at the pale blue sky through the window

there's the smell of cigarettes coming from the balcony

and I step outside without anything on

while he sits on an old chair

dressed in trunks and an unbuttoned shirt

I didn't know he smoked

or could look so sad all at once

and I know deep down

that my hangover can only mean one thing

I said something I shouldn't have

and now he's angry

and as cold as the wind coming from the mainland

and I'm scared

I retreat to the bedroom to put on some clothes

but he follows me inside

and stands in the doorway

like a statue in a graveyard

and he tells me I can't leave

I look back and gaze into those soft blue eyes

wondering what happened last night

after I got so drunk

he lurches toward me

his lips press against mine and we're locked together

his hands to my neck

my hands to his clothes

I strip him down

like ripping petals from a flower

we fall onto the bed

and our love is drenched in anger

the light blue world turns to crimson

poison drips from his lips to mine

fingernails become the sharpest talons

and blood turns to ice

he says he wants to eat me alive

so that I can never go

so that I'll always be with him

and rage fills me

I'm suddenly on top of him

my hands grip tightly like vices

my teeth burry into the skin of his neck

and he lets out a scream

my stomach twists in a knot

I'm on the opposite side of the room

I'm breathing heavily

and he's on the bed whimpering

he begins to cry

I turn and leave the beach house

walking toward town

as if in a trance

and I feel sick

another day we spend together

walking the cold beach

beneath a sky of violet

while birds soar above us screaming

his hand wraps around mine

his smile is as bright as his eyes

his skin is soft like a blanket

his hair blooms like a rose

and I smile back

but it's hard to do it

to look someone in the face who cares about you so much

and lie right back without saying a word

I'd planned to stay throughout winter

but this is becoming too much

because deep down I need him

I know that feeling like the back of my hand

it goes beyond the passionate nights in the apartment

the one he shares with his friend

and goes beyond the long kisses

and the times on the beach where neither of us says a thing

it's also the talks until six in the morning

it's the way his chest smells like a small creek in the morning

and how he smiles over that small mug of coffee

and just the feeling of his fingertips against mine

we sit and it's cold

but we're both so warm

and he leans against me

a precious thing in a dark and terrible world

but even now as I feel so much

for this beautiful wonderful boy next to me

I can't stop picturing

the road that leads away from here

perhaps further north

or maybe back to the midwest

where giant trucks roam like lone wolves

and wind roars like an angry wild animal

that Thrill

that tug of emotion I feel when I picture leaving

it still rests deep in my heart

as if it's a part of my body

and like an addiction to a drug

I simply can't make myself stop

I can't hold back that yearning for the road

to be somewhere other than here

and it breaks my heart

even as he turns to me now

and smiles and asks

"what are you thinking about?"

and I answer, "I'm thinking about love"

there’s little in the way of culture on the small island

but what it lacks in big city pizzazz

it makes up for in nature

as the crashing waves break against soft white sands

the families are all high-enders of course

and I'm just here

a freeloader in their eyes

a bum who doesn't go to the same gym as them

I still have my friends

like now, hanging out around the fire

as cold air blows in from the north

and lands against the pitch black gulf

in proper form

I tell them stories of my travels

but at the same time

I soak up their presence as well

the dark blue and black flannel

light washed denim torn in the right places

anklets sparkling like the embers in the fire

and soft blue eyes beneath waves of midnight colored hair

soft smiles appear as I near the end of my story

there some chuckles

some whispers

and soft kisses

I feel happy as my story ends

and everyone gets up to leave

calling it a night

half drunk, half not drunk

I say I'm going to stay for a minute

before I head back to the house I'm staying in

and everyone leaves

accept for him and his soft blue eyes

he gets up to come sit next to me

he tells me he liked my story

I say thanks and we are silent

for as long as we can be

before he leans in

and I back up, unprepared

he stops, eyes half-closed

and we just stare at each other for a minute

"so then, you don't like guys"

"no, that's not it"

"then what's wrong?"

"I don't know"

and I tell him

about how every stop I make

every time I decide to stay

someone falls for me

and I'm not sure I can keep doing it

because I believe that love

or at least, part of the entire concept,

is your dedication to someone

and I can't keep loving

not without knowing

that I can dedicate my heart

to the one who loves me

"but not everyone needs that"

he says, "but if you find that you do,

why do you keep moving?"

and he leans next to me

I place an arm around his shoulders

pull him close and say,

"I don't know, I guess I just never expected this to happen."

"what did you expect to happen?"

and that's just it, because I didn't expect

the small towns and broken brick walls feel like a distant star

as I sit on this beach in front of the ocean

and watch the sun setting behind the vacation houses on my right

while a storm comes in on the left

there's a sudden sense of strong emotion that comes over me

and I get a strange sense that if I get in the water

I'd be able to swim to where the sky meets the ocean

and I'd be able to touch it

there's a sudden gust of wind

a family laughs about something not far from me

and my brain returns to the pure white sand

that I've buried my toes in

I lean forward, folding my arms over my knees

and watch the group of friends on the rocks

all in their twenties, all smiling

all a little broken in some way

one of them, in blue shorts with dark hair

looks at me

and I look back at him

he smiles and waves, I smile back

I'm chilling by myself

so he probably feels bad that I don't have friends like he does

or maybe he doesn't care

either way

I'm perfectly happy where I'm at

I come to a house with pink bricks

night has already fallen

the stars shining brilliantly

above a flock of adolescents and a fire pit

there are sideways glances, as always

gleaming irises from the shadows

partially obscured by whisps of smoke

shining like the heavenly bodies themselves

and then I spot it

a wide smile and an open hand

and I go over to join her

beer in hand, heart in chest

we sit with her friends

we talk for some time about things

I occasionally look up to observe the infinite blackness

and smile when her laugh tugs me back to earth

I can tell she's still sad that I'm leaving

but she's hiding it well

because she knows even though I'm not leaving immediately

this is still some kind of goodbye

I tell her it's late and I should get going

she walks me to the front yard

both of us silent as graves

and we look into each other's eyes

she leans in for a soft kiss

I accept it and we embrace

the kiss is long and strong

I can tell she wants more

we both had something to drink

we both feel like we are one with the night

and each other

and my heart feels like it's going to burst

I pull away

she lets out a small gasp

like she's about to say something

but she remains silent as I walk down the street

I keep walking

looking up at the stars

and I know that I probably won't see her again

but she'll find someone else

she is one of many kisses I've had since I've left home

I'm at a small town in Oklahoma

waking up to a cloudy sky out my window

with a soft breeze brushing the curtains

and the scent of rain in my nose

feeling awakened, I quickly change

before checking how much money I have

and seeing that I have enough

I head out the door of my friend's house

there's a coffee shop

I go in and order and sit

and I think for a while

about what I'll do next

I've been here for about a month

I'm thinking of heading south

since the summer is coming to an end

and somewhere by the beach will be best for the winter

it's that time again

that time to keep moving

that time to go forward

even though I don't know what's coming next

my drink arrives, warm and sweet

I open my laptop to see what my options are for the next step

and then I stop when a soft hand

lands on the table in front of me

I look up and meet eyes with a girl

she gives me a huge smile

and sits across from me

"and just where have you been for the last week?"

I smile back and fold my arms

sitting back to a relaxed position

"just staying with my friend,

things are getting crazy"

she's holding a mug of coffee

she looks out the window and sips it

"things are always crazy around here"

and she frowns

"what's up?"

I reach over and place a hand on her arm

she looks at it for a moment

sighs

"you're leaving, aren't you"

"maybe... I'm thinking about it"

"why? are you on the run from the cops or something?"

I laugh and say "no! nothing like that."

she's not laughing

"why are you always so secretive?"

I shrug and say "it's not secrets. it's nothing."

"that can't be true, no one's life is nothing"

"my life isn't nothing. my story is."

and finally, I see a tear

"I just don't want you to leave"

her hand turns up and grasps mine

and I just can't say anything

we sit there together in silence for a bit

almost like we're mourning

but it's calmer than that

just a shared silence as conversations buzz around us

she gets up to leave eventually

going to join her friends on the patio outside

they're laughing and talking and smoking

creating their own insouciant atmosphere

I eventually leave too

going to work at the shop for some extra cash

having found a small place in Florida

and after work I get a text

can you come over tonight?

I'm eating a $2 pot pie from the convenience store

when a lady at the bus stop bench

asks why I left in the first place

and it takes a second for me to think

but I remember the moment

the shadowy living room filled with cigarette smoke

the two dark silhouettes watching from the couch

as I step toward the front door

"you won't last a day out there"

"if you leave, you're nothing to me"

and I stop, and say,

"I don't care"

the sidewalk was covered with weeds

growing like cancer through the cracks

and I stepped over them

on the way to the interstate

the trees were pretty dark

on either side of the road

while the sun was setting

and the crickets were chirping

I remember feeling scared at first

but then I looked up

before getting to the bridge over our street

and saw the pink clouds against the violet sky

and I knew that everything was going to be ok

I'm up, as usual, at the crack of twilight

purple smoke has filled the living room

a girl with blonde hair sits in the corner with a pipe

I'm still wearing pink sunglasses from that morning

she asks if I'm doing ok

"I'm alright, just tired"

and she nods

before taking another puff on the pipe

she asks where I'm from

"nowhere in particular really,

I just kind of travel a lot"

and she smiles, saying it sounds fun

I want to tell her it's not

that there's many nights like this

where the days just run together

and you simply lose track of time

there's a kind of freedom to it, yes

a sense that you've become more of a spirit than a person

but that also leads to feeling

terribly unattatched

I can't remember this girl's name

all I know is she showed up at the previous evening's party

but other than that

she's just a girl smoking across from me

and I think that's very beautiful

of course, it’s only two in the morning

there’s supposed to be a city curfew

but the cops don’t really care

they’ve got enough to worry about as it is

we meander in our own packed way

down alleys and under orange lights

like the hallways of our high school

or the backyards of our homes

the silence, i think, is very beautiful

as if we’ve developed an unspoken language

like how birds move in the sky as one

a true sign of how close we are

we stop beside the church to smoke

Jason got cigarettes from his sister

and we gather and puff

like a bunch of smoke stacks

crickets are singing in the distance

and a dog barks on the other side of town

and after a minute I hear the calm of distant train

and for a moment

everything is ok