I love the way you lick your lips when you’re nervous, from the corner to the slit and back again. It’s a tell but there’s so much more I want to know. Biting words slip through those full lips, saying what everyone else doesn’t have the guts to utter. But you have the guts, don’t you? And the humor.
Fine lines crease at the corners of your sad eyes when you laugh, but I can barely see them through the tears in my own. You don’t tell jokes, but your delivery is hilarious. You lift those perfect eyebrows to the center of your forehead and dip your chin while I hold my side. Nudging your knuckle against the side of your nose, you lick away the hint of a smile. You’re too cool to chuckle along. Not in an affected way, but in every possible way.
You walk with an authority that your stature impedes, and I’ve never seen anyone taller. Thick thighs and broad shoulders, you’re a force. You own every room you strut into, even when you don’t plan to. Your caustic nature shouldn’t be so charismatic, but it is. You are.
Sarah Butchin lives in Scottsdale, Arizona. Her work has been published by Across the Margin and The Smart Set. She is an MFA candidate at Lindenwood University. Follow her on Twitter @writingshewrote