First Kiss
By Lila Cecil
Posted on
Outside, the wind is whirling past Twelfth Street making the Pin Oaks tremble and the branches of the Norway Maples bow. Scattering those many conduits of seed across the sidewalks. The rain has stopped and the clouds hang in the sky like cobwebs stretched between the streets.
William sits on the couch and picks at a jagged edge of purple nail polish on his pointer finger. It’s satisfying to single out a fragment of the hard polish from the existing island and eradicate it. He inspects the liberated chip between his pointer and thumb then flicks it off.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he says.
“Too late to back out now.” He watches his mother’s white socks walk through a pool of light on the oriental carpet.…
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