Catch the Sun

by Jennifer Hartmann

Kids our age are fucking sheep. Society is a cesspit. The human race is on a downward spiral, and I’ll be damned if I contribute to the charade with a pitchfork mentality.

I frown. It’s then I realize I might be in trouble, because I shouldn’t be noticing things like that. Legs? Sure. Tits? Of course. Nose freckles? Doomed.

“Don’t, Max,” I repeat. “Don’t smile at me like that.” There’s a hiss to my words. Each syllable is infused with lethal snakebite venom. His smile withers, poisoned to death. “Why not?” “Because you smile at me like I matter,” I snap. “Like I mean something to you.”

Leaning in closer, I murmur, “You were right about that, but you were wrong about something.” Her eyes flutter closed. “What’s that?” she asks breathlessly. I place a soft, featherlight kiss on her temple, drag my lips down her cheek, then whisper in her ear. “You’re a fucking ten.”

You smiled at me and I knew I was going to marry you one day.”

“Love always hurts, honey. That’s the price we pay to experience it.

Fuck space. It’s not what I want or need. All I need is you.” He slams a flat palm over his heart. “You’re the only thing that will repair this goddamn hole in my heart.” “I’m not the answer. I’m not—” “You’re my answer, Sunny.”