“Nostalgia”
Fucking him was
high school. Nostalgia. Memories of things I’d
forgotten even
happened. He smelled like homeroom and smiled like
sunshine at
lunch break. It was alluring in its innocence and hospitality.
It welcomed me
in, more than just temporary. I ripped
off my visitor’s
pass and I was home again.
I hadn’t seen
him since graduation eight years ago but he looked
exactly
the
same;
I wonder if I’d
changed.
Did I change his
view of high school in retrospect?
His facial hair
reminded me of sitting in my car before and after class.
When we first
started undressing, I was anxious like
trying to find
something to wear on the first day of classes.
Afterwards, as I
tried to calm my hair down,
make it do as I
wanted, behave like
the grown up I
wanted to prove to him I had surely become,
I was once again
primping my hair in my locker.
Fucking him was
high school.
Nostalgia.
Memories of things I’d forgotten even happened.
Nostalgia.
Memories of things I’d forgotten even happened.
Bio:
Rachel is a graduate student in Alabama who is a future English and
writing professor. You can find a lot of scrunchies in her apartment.
Feel free to follow her on Twitter at @rickit and view her website at flutedcups.tumblr.com.
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