a young girl with her head in the clouds. x
"Dani," Cara whispered. She longed to ask why she'd done this to her, why she hadn't steered the truck in another direction, when her mother returned, a green paper cup clutched in her pale hand.
A cold silence filled the hospital room. Cara managed to shift her body a little, so she could see the girl who did this to her out of the corner of her eye.
Pale skin, burnt brown in the sun. Dark blue eyes, sparkle in the ocean air. Curly yellow hair, flows behind her as she walks. Worn-in flip flops, leather smacking the board walk.
"Mommy?" Cara coughed into her sleeve, the one she could move. Hovering over her was her mother, concern painting her face. The woman's loose black curls fell into her eyes, and she pushed them back.
Cara awoke in a bright room, the whir of machines filling her ears. She tried to inhale, as was natural for her, but found breathing tubes attached to her nose & threaded through her lungs.
Cara had the windows down- her long, sun-streaked hair loose and whipping at her face in the wind. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the wheel with intensity and purpose.
I clutched his hand. It was a smooth, cold reminder that he was gone forever. I could never kiss his lips again, hug his waist, poke his ribs, or share a secretive smile with him again. He was gone.
It's not in the skin. Whether it be brown, or pale, or tan, or yellow, or pink. It's not in the hair. Whether it be orange, or black, or brown, or grey, or white, or yellow, or blue.
Hidden in the trees. Far from home & family. I sleep upon a plastic bed. And swat at flies that buzz round my head. I stare out at the still, black lake. It's surface as glassy as one can make.