I knew we would fall in love the moment I shook his hand. I convinced him to join me. He was reluctant. He went quiet during my spring break, my stomach shrinking away from the inevitable. He broke it off the day after I was sleeping in his shirt. I screamed and rocked and cried and he stared as this confirmed his feelings. I couldn't taste my Nana's cooking for a week, my tongue dying in solidarity with my gut. Once I was his age, I couldn't blame him, but I could still hate him for making home food bland.
About the Creator
Ariana GonBon
29yo bi Xicana. There's always more to write about, in more interesting ways than white men.
Instagram: @arte.con.ariana
For more stories unapproved by Vocal: colochosdeflores.wordpress.com
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