[she looks at him like he hung the stars, and maybe he did]

[overheard in a bustling cafe over the sound of teaspoons hitting ceramic, shuffling feet and a combination of voices and jazz piano]: i dunno, maybe i need to stop worshiping the ground you walk on, but every step you take turns the dirt into gold and how do I not devote my life to someone like that?

[he looks at her, expecting her to transform before him, into someone he could love]

[speaking not to her but to the open plains in front of them, because he knows if he looks at her, he will be able to see the moment her heart breaks]: i was never supposed to let it get this far

[exit, pursued by the inescapable weight of longing and a bear]

Emma Moody (she/they) Emma is a bookstore manager who you can find reading anything she can get their hands on, watching romcoms, writing poems about the idea of being loved, and listening to indie poprock