Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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The shadows crept across Lilas’s bedroom wall, grim reminders that the day was near its end. She continued to lay on her bed, largely unmoving, as she had since waking that Monday morning. There was no call to the school regarding her taking the day off and she only fleetingly wondered about who Glen would get to cover her class. School was dismissed by now anyhow. Past concerns. A responsibility that she knew wouldn’t be completely shattered unless tomorrow arrived with the same kind of weight pressing her to the mattress. It would. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine getting up, getting dressed, seeing the children’s eager moon faces staring up at her as she explained two times four equals eight, how to write a lowercase q and told the story of General Robert E. Lee crossing the Potomac. Grady would be sitting fourth from the left, second row from the front, his legs bouncing as if he were a human piston powering some great unseen locomotive. He was brilliant, eager, and very much in love with Lilas. Not smitten. Not crushing. But fully enamored with his teacher, to the point of holding long stares on her with those eyes bordering on turquoise of his, a smile absent his face but instead awe leaving his mouth slack. His mouth. Lilas shifted her weight in bed and turned away from the sun’s dark leavings on her wall. She had to think of something else, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to, for this was how it was now. His eyes. His mouth. His ever moving legs. His attention. She couldn’t go back ever again, she decided. She might not ever go anywhere again, instead just watching the passage of the sun through the plants in her window, waiting for her own light to expire.
A couple weeks ago, I put out a random call for photo prompts and a bunch of people DM’d shots. Among them was this one by the incredibly talented @saeed_fx who does incredibly beautiful edits and photos using just his phone. Thank you do much Saeed, for sending this to me. (at Descent)

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