Song Recommendation; Eyes without a face- Billy Idol
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A flashy-looking pineapple keychain. Cheap plastic. The face chipped.
"So childish," I think, and I'm smiling before I can stop myself.
And then I realize that this is the first time I have smiled since. . . After all that. I don't deserve to.
The pineapple is scuffed from being carried for years. And on the back, in faded black marker, tiny: G.
Just G.
For a second, I thought about just putting it on the porch. Or Knocking on the door. "You dropped this." Easiest excuse in the world to finally meet her and talk to her.
No. Not smart. I'm going to do this without making any sort of contact with her. It's better that way.
I slip it into my front pocket. The plastic edge pressing against my thigh. It's still a little warm from her holding it.
I stand there for another five seconds, looking at the front window where she is now in the kitchen, back to me, pouring water.
Then I walk back to the car.
