Page 10 - My FlipBook
P. 10
T h e w o r l d o n E i t h e r S i d e
that I mean. He ran his finger down my face, tracing my
profile, over my chin, along my neck. He kissed the soft part
of my throat, just above my collarbone.
“It’s an ode.”
He laughed. “To garbage?”
“To the earth. To life.”
“I love you, Valentine,” he said, nuzzling the skin between
my breasts.
That was the first time he ever said it. It’s one of those
memories that stays sharp, a taste that’s always on my
tongue—the words, the heat in his skin, the glitter in the sky
and the swishing sounds of luminous Lake Ontario against
the shore.
7
