There’s Pumpkin About You

by Athena Carstairs

He analyzes every one of my movements—every flick of my eyebrow, each time I allow my mouth to lift in a smirk meant to rile, and he seems to pay particular attention to my lips any time that I lift my cup to my mouth to taste the sweet and bitter blend of my coffee. It’s one of those stares which you aren’t quite sure if it’s done out of interest or out of disgust.

“Do I make you nervous, sweetheart?” His lips press against each other, as if taking a second to see if he likes the taste the new nickname leaves on his tongue. My own form a gap when I let out yet another short breath, my lungs desperately searching for any kind of oxygen in the room. “Do I?” he repeats. “I…” I gulp. “I’m not sure.” The edge of his lips twitch, but he keeps his smile in check. “Good enough for me.”

hang up on him mid-sentence and ignore the tear of frustration that streaks down my face. I will never understand it. I will never understand the contradiction that arises when everyone thinks I feel nothing at all, even though it’s those around me that are heartless.

I allocate one emotion to one movement, that’s it. Add in any more and I’m lost.