#18 (218 words)

Sabrina described herself as ugly.  She wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t pretty either.  Still, there were times when she was busy not thinking about herself- like when she was lost in a good story or sautéing garlic or sleeping or feeding the fish- and the loss of her self-scrutiny relaxed the skin of her forehead, softened the surface of her eyes and made her lips fuller, let them be.  She would look quite pretty then.  It didn’t happen too often.  Just enough for me to know it was a possibility, and that is what I loved about her.

We sat out back at sunset.  A beetle crawled over her toes.  They looked like wine grapes and I liked them.  I reached down to remove the beetle and place it in the grass.

-Leave it, she said.  -I like how Gregor’s little legs feel walking on my toes.  She took a drag off her cigarette and stared at the sky that was orange and pink and purple.  She claimed to have tens of millions of sisters, all of whom were prettier than she was, but none of them could compare to her at that moment.

Sabrina, unthinking and painted the colors of paradise, a beetle making a home in her toes, so ugly she was a saint.

sabrina’s lover
c A Hughes (Copyright 2011)

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~ by c on July 6, 2011.