“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU USED MY LAST PICKLE IN YOUR VAGINA??”
(I yell at my friends mom, I had taken a jar of pickles to their house and I was planning to eat the last one but no.)
“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!!”
(She yells back with a long groan slapping her hand against her forehead, glaring at me, as if I was the one to stuff a pickle up my cooch, I whip my head around as i glare back, walking up to her)
“HOW CAN THAT BE AN ACCIDENT?? IT CANT JUST GROW LEGS AND CRAWL UP THERE!!”
(I yell back my words dripping with anger and confusion)
“WELL- It- got stuck.”
(I raise my eyebrow as I look down at her pants then back up to her eyes, the realization hits me as my jaw drops)
“IS IT STILL UP THERE??”
My heart may as well have stopped, For I have seen what I thought was a dream A dream that walked with echoes of black heels clicking on the grey marble floor, Her voice soothing like the whispers of a familiar rain after the calm of a stormy night. Red waves of perfectly styled locks falls just below her shoulders, A small pearl necklace paired with a white blouse, straightened black blazer and grey dress pants. Her Green eyes look into mine, small specks of blue shimmering like gems in a hidden forest. She speaks in a soothing contentment of words that fill my ears like a lost song i didn’t know existed, but now that I’ve heard it, I never want to not be around the mesmerizing monotoned noises. She smiles a pearly white smile, forcing a red hue to rise to my cheeks, the corners of my lips twitch, daring a inevitable smile in contrast to her bright yellow aura. I place her stacks of papers on her perfectly sectioned desk, her hand touches mine with a soft thank you for the help, Sparks send through me as if I was gasoline and she was the flame, I couldn’t help but be intrigued by the woman called my professor, The woman that lectured me with her Knowledge of words. And in my mind, the way her eyes look into mine with that smile and her touch, I have a hope deep inside me this love isn’t as unrequited as I first inquired..
