there are two little scars.

creative writing class,

task: old memory, newer memory.

old:

My sister stood in front of the mirror. She was five years old. I crawled into the bedroom we shared and sat watching her dance to whatever music was in the cassette player at the time. I stood up to join her and she told me I had to sit back down, I was only allowed to sit and watch. I kept standing, with much effort, and she continuously told me to sit. Finally, I got up, hugged her and she grabbed my face and pitched it as hard as she could and pushed me into the mirror. I crawled out of the room.

new:

We sat in the back of the car. My legs were on his and we did not look at each other. It was under that same lamppost, that same spot that was now so familiar. The silence was not deafening, and I wasn’t aware of it. My stomach growled. He started laughing and said I ruined the moment. “I wasn’t aware of this being a moment” I said, “I thought we were just sitting here” He sat up and pulled a granola bar out of the glove box and handed it to me. I ate it quickly. He laughed a genuine laugh that I hadn’t expected, or really ever heard. Slowly, he reached over and took my hand. I looked down at my hand in his and wondered why I was allowing him to do that. I hated handholding. It was two am when I realized I should leave. As I got out of the car he released my hand and said simply, “Things will be different.”