Tell me about yourself." "Myself?" He looks confused. "Yes," I say, patting the mattress. "You know all there is to know," he says, sitting beside me. "Not true," I say. "Where were you born? What's your favourite season? Anything." "Here. Florida," he says. "I remember a woman in a red dress with curly brown hair. Maybe she was my mother, I'm not sure. And summer. What about you?" The last part is said with a smile. He smiles so infrequently that I consider each one a trophy.
Lauren DeStefanoLife is much different from the days when there were lilies in my motherโs garden, and all my secrets fit into a paper cup.
Lauren DeStefanoIt's the silence I imagine in the rest of the world, the silence of an endless ocean and uninhabitable island, a silence that can be seen from space.
Lauren DeStefanoI don't know if it was love or an illusion. I don't know if there's ever a way to be certain.
Lauren DeStefano