Café Con Lychee

by Emery Lee

I guess this confirms that I really was directing all my hatred at Gabi just because of the shitty situation between our parents, and it sends a spike of pain through my chest that almost makes me topple over. It’s guilt, but namely the “I’ve been called on my bullshit and can’t deny it any longer” kind that feels vaguely like a sharp stab between the ribs. God, I hate how much these things affect me, but it takes everything I have to shift my focus away from the twisting feeling in my gut over to what’s happening on the field.

Maybe when it comes to playing soccer, it’s just the same as when he tries to talk to people—he’s so caught up in looking the part that he’s missing all the steps that go into making it convincing. We’ll have to change that.

And then, before I know it, my mind is straying to a little bakery straight out of Miraculous Ladybug, the three of us dancing through the kitchen in French maid costumes. I leap gracefully from the counter, and Theo twirls me around before—

I laugh, and he looks me like I just grew a new limb, but come on! What a loser! I told him I wanted a distraction from my life problems, so he went into random facts about axamanders like that’s what I meant.

“Well, sometimes when you vent, people egg you on, you know? Tell you how shitty the other person is, and then before you know it, everyone’s dragging someone and being furious. But sometimes you vent, and the other person just tells you that your feelings are valid, and then you start processing how to move on.”