lei fraser

He was the first one I had kissed that made my knees wibble. New Year’s Eve together then a week. A beginning. I went to him, knowing if I died, no one would notice. He would have been the last. I was ready to go. I never told him that. Instead, I sat on the hardwood floor in bare feet, watching sunlight, writing while he worked. We watched movies and the Dakar rally and in brief moments, explored. Seven days saved me. I wanted to kiss him one last time but the road called me home. Just needed a reason.