Grey
august
On October fourth, Grey wasn’t where she usually was on a Monday morning. The bench beneath the large oak tree on campus was empty, students walking past like nothing was different. I immediately called Grey, but she didn’t pick up. I became worried, jumping to the worst conclusions on the way over to her apartment.
Her little brother, August, buzzed me into the apartment building and I raced up the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. I knocked on the door multiple times before August opened it, looking exhausted.
“Settle down,” he muttered.
“Where is she?” I asked, my voice full of panic.
“Asleep,” August replied tiredly. “She was up sick all last night.”
As if sensing my anxiety, he invited me inside. I sat down on the couch and August took a seat beside me. We were silent for what felt like a long time. He looked a lot like his older sister, with his deep-set dimples and blonde hair. His eyes, however, were the very lightest possible shade of green.
“So, you’re her boyfriend, then.”
I looked over at August, who was staring back at me with a frightening intensity. I felt myself flinch before I opened my mouth to speak.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. August looked at me for a long time in silence, as if considering what I’d said. Then, he simply nodded, his mouth turning up just slightly at the corners. Not quite a smile, yet not quite a frown.
“It’s hard to know anything with Grey,” August said quietly, before standing up and walking away. He stopped at the short hallway and turned back to me.
“Her room is that one,” he said, pointing to the door opposite the one he then entered and shut behind him. I wondered what he thought of me. He seemed so serious for someone his age.
I hesitated before entering Grey’s room. I don’t know what I had expected. The wall behind her bed was covered with Polaroid pictures, all organized in neat rows. Perfect, and put right in their place. What bothered me about it was that there was a huge gap, right in the middle. A perfect square.
My eyes moved from the wall to the bed where Grey was asleep, her hair splayed out across her pillow. I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed and playing with her hair, just looking at her for a very long time.
She looked so fragile, like the lightest touch would break her into pieces.
Her little brother, August, buzzed me into the apartment building and I raced up the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. I knocked on the door multiple times before August opened it, looking exhausted.
“Settle down,” he muttered.
“Where is she?” I asked, my voice full of panic.
“Asleep,” August replied tiredly. “She was up sick all last night.”
As if sensing my anxiety, he invited me inside. I sat down on the couch and August took a seat beside me. We were silent for what felt like a long time. He looked a lot like his older sister, with his deep-set dimples and blonde hair. His eyes, however, were the very lightest possible shade of green.
“So, you’re her boyfriend, then.”
I looked over at August, who was staring back at me with a frightening intensity. I felt myself flinch before I opened my mouth to speak.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. August looked at me for a long time in silence, as if considering what I’d said. Then, he simply nodded, his mouth turning up just slightly at the corners. Not quite a smile, yet not quite a frown.
“It’s hard to know anything with Grey,” August said quietly, before standing up and walking away. He stopped at the short hallway and turned back to me.
“Her room is that one,” he said, pointing to the door opposite the one he then entered and shut behind him. I wondered what he thought of me. He seemed so serious for someone his age.
I hesitated before entering Grey’s room. I don’t know what I had expected. The wall behind her bed was covered with Polaroid pictures, all organized in neat rows. Perfect, and put right in their place. What bothered me about it was that there was a huge gap, right in the middle. A perfect square.
My eyes moved from the wall to the bed where Grey was asleep, her hair splayed out across her pillow. I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed and playing with her hair, just looking at her for a very long time.
She looked so fragile, like the lightest touch would break her into pieces.
