A gentle hum that gradually grows, enveloping the night air.
I sit up, every nerve in my body suddenly awake. The sound is coming from my backyard. I push off the couch and move toward the sliding glass door.
And there she is, barefoot in the grass.
She’s wearing a matching pajama set, pale yellow with tiny brown teddy bears scattered across the soft fabric. The cami top is thin, loose in the breeze, the neckline dipping just enough to hint at the curves she usually hides.
I catch a glimpse of the bruise right beneath her collarbone again, and my breath turns ragged.
Heat crawls up my spine, and I force my hands to stay relaxed at my sides, but my knuckles are red from the sheer force of my clenched fists.
Her phone sits on the patio table, its speaker pulsing blue, softly playingcrystallized (feat. Inéz) by John Summit.
The music wraps around her body like it’s part of her as she moves with it, slow and wild all at once, her arms stretched over her head as her hips sway to the rhythm.
She starts to sing, and I just let myself listen to the sound of her voice through the glass.
And I could stand here, listening to her sweet voice sing, and be a happy man.
The next verse swells, and she sings louder, her voice slightly cracking, spinning beneath the open sky.
She stomps her bare feet into the wet grass, her head thrown back as she’s yelling along to the chorus now, and I notice a slight sheen in her eyes, like she’s been crying.
I stand there, half-hidden behind the glass, my heartbeat syncing to the song. The night hums, and all I can do is watch her glow under it.
The first drop of rain falls, the first speck dampening the strands of grass, swaying with the breeze.
She doesn’t stop, of course she doesn’t.
The drizzle deepens, speckling her skin, darkening her hair, making her pajamas cling to her.
Fireflies scatter, regrouping around her as she twirls, water spraying from her fingertips.
She screams the last line of the chorus, spinning once more before collapsing into laughter, breathless and gleaming under the moonlight.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Not the kind of beauty you photograph.
The kind of beauty that hits you in the chest and makes you forget what air is.
She tilts her face toward the sky, her eyes closed, as rain runs down her cheeks, smiling. The light from the window flickers against her skin, mixing with the glow of fireflies and the silver shimmer of the storm.
I let myself stare, and it feels like balance is tilting, restraint slipping away.
She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it as she dances in the rain, looking like a promise I have no right to desire.
I’ve spent years thinking the world lost its color. That everything good belonged to someone else. That some people were just meant to live in the quiet while everyone else got the light.
But standing here, watching her sing and dance in the rain, surrounded by fireflies and moonlight, I’m not so sure anymore.
The song finally fades into the night, as the rain softens to a whisper.
She spins once more, this time more slowly, with hereyes still closed, her lips parting in a gentle hum that echoes long after the last note fades.
I stand there, watching her like a creep, who’s hopelessly in love with a woman who’s promised to someone else.
She can’t and won’t fall in love with a freak like me.
