Short Stories

Spring Crush

Your smile lingers on me.
It smells like spring. Flowers grow on every street. Bloom and blossom. People walk away, their shoes tick-tocking on the pavement like a beat of symphony. Girls come out home with the color of beige, and boys playing baseball under the bright-bright sky.
It seems like waltz. A hall of victory. And there’s a multiple glass toast for the melting snow tomorrow and after. From the crack on the wall, a bunch of hymn of joy draws trough the air, out loud.


It sounds like Vivaldi. The birds, they sing at the ground. The swans, they are waving from the lake. A father swing his son up to the hill and the mother sit under an old Angsana tree, reading Danielle Steel. When it getting dark, there’s a cup of hot chocolate waiting in the dining room and a large group of cricket outside the window.
It feels like cotton sweater. A spot of pasta left on the shoulders. He spread the heat over her knees. Some new weed crosses the bridge in the sparkling city. Love glowing underneath the crescent moon. As close as the figure of Mercury from the telescope lens.
Your smile lingers on me.
I miss it simply like Saturday.

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