by Abigail St. Clair Thomas

She’s got these big, brown eyes. like yours, but not quite. she’s from Texas. you’ve never been. she talks about her grandfather with a voice like she just walked in the door with something she just found and you’ve never seen. You find yourself falling in love with these girls from places unlike the place you’re from, with a sweetness that seems antithetical to you. This was no exception. by the end of the trip you’d be crying at the thought of leaving one another. You wrote her a letter you told her to only read it from the plane. She wrote you an email since. you never responded.