she waits on the front porch- time passes minutes like hours, hours like eternity. her mother wants her to come inside but, surely, he is coming, right? don’t want to miss him. more time passes minutes like hours, hours like eternity. she starts to count the tiny red hearts on her white tights. 37, there are 37. the sky is dark now. he never ends up coming and not the day after that, either. her physical body went back into the house but not her whole heart- in a way she will always be that little girl
