“Let’s go home, baby,” she smiled, leaning closer into his side. Dark curls were falling from the messy bun atop her head and even darker eyes traced the curves of his mouth lit up from the neon sign behind the bar.
He reminded her of the way night felt when she escaped a crowded room. When she walked out into an empty parking lot and the sky beckoned her to pause. How it felt as if she were small and invincible all at once. The way the air soothed the smoke from her throat and caressed her ears. The way it seeped into her lungs, pushing and filling them to the brim whispering: “You have forgotten the wild creature inside you. You’ve forgotten the stars.”
He felt like that. He felt like shedding society’s skin of stifling normalcy to run into moonlit grass. To howl at the crescent with dew on her collarbones.
©️ Pearl Bayou 2018