SandScript 2023 [Digital Exclusive]

you are. Standing here: the image of your
decaying youth, pulling on your face to rid
itself of wrinkles. Is your hair thinning? With a
defeated sigh you acknowledge the magic is
gone and you’re in your blue years.
In your bedroom, you pick out your clothes to
iron because you were too tired to do so last
night. You base your entire outfit around the
shirt she said brings out the color in your eyes.
After ironing you put your outfit on, but you
sluggishly button up your shirt.
In your one-bedroom apartment, the sun
bathes the bedroom in soft light. It’s the
golden hour. The specks of dust dance in
the light like frolicking fairies. You need to
leave soon, or you’ll be late, but in the corner
of your eye, you see her in the doorway.
She slyly smiles as she tucks her hair back
behind her ears. A quick quiver of her lips
and drooping of her eyes betrays her. She
saunters over to you. She grabs the collar
of your shirt and coyly tugs on it. You sniff
her perfume: rose, hibiscus, blood orange.
She whispers your name, and it sounds like
praying. She says she misses you.
You notice the pinkness in her eyes and the
shadows beneath. You’ve been working well
into the night this week, and so you hadn’t
caught how exhausted she was. With a hand
on her shoulder, you promise that you’ll
make her your eggplant lasagna and roasted
brussels sprouts salad, and maybe soon you’ll
go on a trip to Sedona.
jerk yourself away. You start buttoning your
shirt. Why are memories always lit in romantic
lighting?
Now dressed, you head back out of the
bedroom. In the living room, the tv is on.
A YouTube yoga video plays and she is in
triangle pose. Her shirt raises, revealing her
stomach. Through these comfortable years,
your eyes still stare in hope for a glimpse of
her navel. Just a bit more, but she goes into
warrior 2.
In the kitchen, there is a tote bag with
Tupperware, a brass-colored Contigo travel
mug, and a thirty-two-ounce seagrass green
Hydroflask. You look on the counter, in the
drawers, and then on the table. You rush to
the bedroom and look on your nightstand
and then on the floor nearby. In the bathroom,
you check the hamper. Back in the living
room, she asks you what you are looking for
while she is in eagle. You tell her your keys.
Did you check the couch, she asks. You
mutter to yourself why would they be on the
couch? Between the cushions of your cherry
red couch, you find your keys. Now you’re
ready. After opening the front door, you
automatically say I love you, and you hear it
back as the door closes.
Outside, your neighborhood is still. You
remember the quote: “Thirty—the promise of
a decade of loneliness…”
She places a small kiss on your lips. The next
one is on your chin, then your jaw. As her
lips head towards your neck her warm soft
hand makes its way under your shirt. Her
hot breath blowing on your ear before biting
your lobe makes your knees buckle. You
run your fingers through her hair. You pull,
playfully rough, bringing back her face. You
forget yourself in a deep kiss, but then you
36
Marian the Fox
Ceramic
Caroline Reilly