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Silhouettes of Her
She was my spark in the dark.
Do you ever think about your first love? I do. It was my freshman year of college, and a bunch of the other guys took me under their wings and introduced me to the party scene on campus. There was a lot of booze and weed being swapped from person to person. I still remember flashes of that first party, my head churning from the amount of beer I’d drunk, before I ducked into a guest bedroom to lie down.
Instead, I met her.
She sat there, a plume of smoke trailing from her lips, as she eyed me with a touch of malice. Her dirty blonde hair fell past her shoulders, and she wore a black tank top with cut-off shorts. Even in my inebriated state, I could tell she didn’t want to be bothered. But my brain felt like it was swimming. Before I could even get out a word any which way, I had collapsed face-first onto the bed.
I thought she would leave in disgust, probably for me to choke on my own vomit when the time came.
But her hand found my head and stroked along the back of my skull. It felt nice, as if she were watching over me like a guardian angel. It was easy enough to fall into a dreamless sleep with her fingers weaving through my hair.
The next morning, I woke up to drool and a beautiful girl lying beside me in the sunlight streaming…
