Alejandro
2:30AM and the phone was buzzing like a hive of nails. I brushed some dreams off my eyes, strained my retinas to focus on the screen, and made out the name. As much as I would've loved to ignore the call, or continue to pretend studying like I can actually learn Latin, I had to answer; it was the only girl I've ever loved, and still do. She was sobbing hard and everything she was saying sounded like vague oblongs resembling words over the tiny receiver.
"What's wrong? Why're you crying, baby?" I asked.
"I think I'm about to have a panic attack."
"What?"
"I think I'm going to have a panic attack."
"What's wrong?"
"I'm so scared. After my grandma, and all these things were talking about in my philosophy classes, all I can think about is death. What happens when we die? How do we know?" She sounded so desperate--a wounded orb of light sifting through dark madness trying to see what eyes were never meant for.
"Even if we could touch Heaven with our own hands, I don't think anyone would ever believe it--it's that good. So, we never really know in the way a scientist might know why flowers wait until spring, or that are bodies are full of cells. We believe because we'll never understand a place that's meant for our souls through our body anyway. We don't die for death, love."
The next morning the sky was gray and limp like a sagging curtain. But I had a text message: "Thank you for last night, honey." I smiled. If the clouds looked like death, they were only going somewhere better.
submitted by thoughtenterprise
