Cute. You called me cute. Not thoughtful or sweet, but cute. Six hundred miles of sound. One syllable. One word. A single bit of cellular data. Did you mean it? Did you know?
Did I reveal myself?
No, my voice was loud, thick with sardonic syrup, covering my racing pulse. The incessant jokes, tuned just the right way, at the right speed. A self-destructive frequency to stifle my treacherous face. The cheeks that delineate a grin, blooming silent cerise. You could not know.
But did you mean it?
Weeks go by, your voice is long gone and my anxious mind gives your words a new voice. The rushing waters of thought, rubbing the memory smooth, polishing it, refining it. Till I can place it with the other gems and jewels, the pretty and ugly ones I’ve earned. In it, I can see with crystal clarity, a windchime laugh, a single sentence, in which I only heard a single word. Cute.
Logan is a proud and passionate nerd with a zeal for life. He prides himself on his humor, optimism, and gift for rhetoric.