A short story on teen love.
(Previously titled “What I Spent This Morning Writing”)
Sometimes, before you can write the mature, introspective stuff, you have to get the sentimental business out of the way. This is that. I sat here and cried while I wrote it, and I wish similar bittersweet agony on anyone who reads it. 🙂 🙂 🙂
They are lying tangled together on the living room floor, her legs across his, recording their conversation on a cassette tape recorder. His voice, then hers.
You are so cute.
Shut up. I am not.
They are near the attic fan, as there is no central air, only two window units, one on each floor, in this 60 year-old bungalow. They are here because they are sixteen and in love and it is hot outside and all they want is to be near each other. They are listening to the same part, over and over again: Rewind. Play. Rewind. Play.
You are. All of you is…
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