Luna and the Lie

by Mariana Zapata

life was a gift—sometimes one you wanted to return, and other times one you’d want to keep forever, but it was still a gift. The grass might look greener on the other side, but at least you still had grass. There were places in the world that didn’t have any to begin with.

The heart is more resilient than anyone ever gave it credit for, and I liked to think mine was a bad bish.

“It’s all right, baby girl,” they started. “You’re a good girl.” “A nice girl.” “The nicest.” “Sweetest.”

would be fine. “It always made me feel better when my mom would do it for me,” he told me, doing it all over again, so soft, so naturally. “Didn’t matter if I was scared or sad or mad; everything always felt better after she did it.”

“Add that to our secrets, all right? Just thought you deserved to know.”

We were. We were so totally friends. He was my boss too, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends

Man, I could fall in love with this man if I let myself. I really, really could.

“I want my goddamn Luna back,”

You gave me these pieces of you I know you haven’t given to anybody else, and they’re mine. You can’t take ’em back. I need them more than you do, you hear me?”

“How many times I gotta tell you I just like being around you?”

You are my girl. Just you. Nobody else ever has or will be.”