It streams through the window. The light. Blinds my eyes and I turn away quickly. I want to smile at the sunflower by my bed. There's not enough happiness for that this morning. I stare at it, curse my mouth for not having the courage to look fondly upon the soft petals. They're too bright this morning. Joy that consumed the length of me for so many days does not sustain. I cannot cry. It's been a month and twenty two days since the last time I shed a tear. Save one from a movie about people I do not know and brotherly love. Light-headed there's always the stumbling around, shadowing figures. One of them runs her finger through my hair. I do not remember you, I say. You mean nothing to me and you should not be running your fingers through my hair with such a tender touch. I think I might throw up or cry, but the acid reliever and the influx of serotonin won't let me, so just get the fuck out of here. Anger is the only thing I have left. Impulsive kindness is overwhelming. Holding her hair, watching her eyes flutter back and forth over my body, trying to hold my solitary figure still. I brush her hair out of her face, tuck it behind her ear and smile. Thank you, she breathes, you're so kind and I love you.
I can't keep my eyes open while he's watching me, so I close them. Cold sets in and I feel her near me. She grabs my hand and asks if I am okay. In return, I open my eyes and smile, kissing her cheek. I tell her that I love her, and mean every word of it. Without romance, she is still one of the people I trust. I didn't choose to trust her, but I do. I silently pray that I will not do anything to screw up our friendship. The german boy comes near to us and I hide my head in between my knees, playing the game with myself that if he can't see me, I can't see him. He finds me and tries to talk about truth and America and how the girls here are not like the ones in Holland. I keep my hands wadded in front of me, eyes focused on the freckle beneath his left eye. What he says is slurred and thick with accent. I leave. No excuse, just standing up and walking. He calls out for me and I turn and tell him to fuck off. I feel my body sway, hear them whoop and she latches on behind me, keeping me stable. She comments that I must be drunk, for I've never moved like that. I tell her I'm not. Not even a sip. And then he's there, and I want nothing more but to ask him to leave. I cannot look at him, so I don't, slipping through the crowd like a ghost. Faces blur into nothing real, and the man with the mask on looks at me with interest and I give him a cursory glance as I leave.
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