strawberry bear

Nadia pulled a long drag from her flavored vape pen. Strawberry Bear. The subtle flavor lingered behind her teeth, nestling sweetly next to the secret she had yet to share.

For days the story had swam towards the surface, curling, like a serpent, from the root of her gut, lingering on the edge of her bottom lip. Yet despite how close she’d gotten, she hadn’t been able to tell them. Why?

Nadia’s eyes locked in on the long cattails before her, being forced in direction by the sharp summer wind. It was because she felt too good. Too certain. Too sure. The intuitive knot below her rib cage had unfolded itself in such a precise way that her own brain couldn’t rationalize its pattern. But she knew. And if shared, this story would pull with it a request to climb into another’s boots, to explain from their understanding, reassure to their anxieties, concoct excuses to calm their fears. She wasn’t ready to abandon herself in that way just yet. She didn’t think she would be again ever.

“Why do you think they called it that?” Nathaniel asked, turning the small vape juice bottle between his round fingers.

Nadia smiled, not taking her eyes from the grassy plant. Reaching her palm forwards, she braced one of the cylindrical flowers, allowing it to stand upright against the demanding breeze.

“It must have just made sense,” she said. And she exhaled the smoke from behind her bottom lip.

-b

August 24, 2020