Theea
one day, I'll be out of time
And I just wanna feel alive
And I just wanna feel alive
I grin before I can stop myself, the sound of my laugh cutting through the sea breeze. It’s quick and breathy, but real. Something in my chest lets go, just a little, the weight shifting off my shoulders like sand shaken from a towel.
I don’t know Calypso well—not really—but from what I do know, I like her. There’s something easy in her presence. Effortless. She doesn’t press too hard, and that makes me want to say more.
“That’s actually some solid treasure hunting,” I tell her, nodding at the shell. “Those abalone ones are tough to find intact. That one’s gorgeous.”
And then she offers to help, and I blink, caught off guard by the swell of relief I feel. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted someone to say that. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” I offer her another smile, softer now. “Thank you.”
I start walking, and before I know it, I’m talking again. Words spill a little faster than I mean them to.
“We lived in the house for about two years. That’s the longest we ever stayed anywhere.” I glance toward the trees as we pass, scanning for anything familiar. “It’s pale yellow, kind of soft and sun-faded, with light blue trim. My mom painted flowers on the porch railings, little stars on the shutters… birds on the banisters, I think. We built it ourselves, so everything’s a little crooked.”
I laugh again, self-conscious this time, and tuck a piece of windblown hair behind my ear.
“Sorry, I’m rambling. I do that a lot.”
A few more steps. The waves whisper on one side, the treeline rustles on the other, and I glance at her.
“Are you doing okay, by the way?” I ask, quieter now. “Things got pretty heated at the party. I didn’t want to pry, but…” I trail off, offering her the space to take it or leave it. “You seemed like you could use a breather.”
I don’t know Calypso well—not really—but from what I do know, I like her. There’s something easy in her presence. Effortless. She doesn’t press too hard, and that makes me want to say more.
“That’s actually some solid treasure hunting,” I tell her, nodding at the shell. “Those abalone ones are tough to find intact. That one’s gorgeous.”
And then she offers to help, and I blink, caught off guard by the swell of relief I feel. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted someone to say that. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” I offer her another smile, softer now. “Thank you.”
I start walking, and before I know it, I’m talking again. Words spill a little faster than I mean them to.
“We lived in the house for about two years. That’s the longest we ever stayed anywhere.” I glance toward the trees as we pass, scanning for anything familiar. “It’s pale yellow, kind of soft and sun-faded, with light blue trim. My mom painted flowers on the porch railings, little stars on the shutters… birds on the banisters, I think. We built it ourselves, so everything’s a little crooked.”
I laugh again, self-conscious this time, and tuck a piece of windblown hair behind my ear.
“Sorry, I’m rambling. I do that a lot.”
A few more steps. The waves whisper on one side, the treeline rustles on the other, and I glance at her.
“Are you doing okay, by the way?” I ask, quieter now. “Things got pretty heated at the party. I didn’t want to pry, but…” I trail off, offering her the space to take it or leave it. “You seemed like you could use a breather.”
look mama, i can fly
