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  • Writer's pictureMarie Smysor Watson

blonde - 100 words

For the Big Boy... Jack of my heart!

He spends most of his days outside, underneath a tree, in a hammock, digging in the dirt, hovering over puddles like a dragonfly. Just as I did when I was young. Shirtless, as I did also, until my gender betrayed me. He is blonde, like I was. Will it darken as mine did? At this stage, anything is possible.

The cat is aloof - he loves it unrequitedly. They run into the dying sun, the young boy, the younger cat. Is he chasing it? I can’t say, only that he is running away from me.

I still have not caught him.

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