Oran Warner
August, 2022
The gentle woosh of water rushed through the shower head as Oran rinsed the coconutty conditioner from his hair. Wiping his face, he turned the shower faucet. The shower curtain screeched as he pulled it open and stepped out.
He paused, watching steam swirling through air currents invisible to him.
He sighed.
Toweling off, he grabbed briefs, a tattered band-T, and jeans from their respective drawers and yanked them on. Returning to the bathroom, he put on each piece of his jewelry.
Rings: silver band of jagged star cutouts and the plain silver band that hosted a small, circular obsidian stone.
Silver chain, hosting a small heart with a crown that his grandfather gifted him.
The silver watch his mother had given years ago, black details marking the numbers on the watch face.
He strapped the watch on, meeting the eyes of his reflection.
His hair hung around his face in dark, wet ringlets, matching the dark-chocolate color of his eyes – eyes that looked much more mature than he felt. His skin, a shade darker than the chai tea he’d purchased that morning, was speckled with moles.
His mother had told him that moles marked the spots where his lover had kissed him in his previous life.
He pitied the manifestation of himself in his next life, for there would be no moles adorning their skin.
Lavender Andreas
Late March, 2017
She was unreachable.
Through the fog, mist, and crowded high school hallways she marched: utterly, absolutely unreachable. When she took her seat in the plastic chair, the world surrounding her spiraled away, and she was alone. She watched the world around her surrounded by an air of detachment.
Physically level with the rest of reality, Lavender lingered atop one of the peaks in the valley of jagged, mountainous columns, above it all.
