Elena Armas

Did I throw it all away out of fear and stupidity? Am I too late?

With his arms on his knees and his head hanging low between his shoulders, there was my life-altering moment.

“Anything that bothers you matters to me, and I want to hear about it,” he said from his position behind me. “Nothing about you is boring or doesn’t interest me—ever. Understand?”

I felt myself nod and perhaps mutter a quiet, “Yes,” too

“I’ll give you the world,” he said against my mouth. “The moon. The fucking stars. Anything you ask, it’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Careful.” I felt his hand on my hair, his palm brushing down the tousled locks. “If you get any more perfect, I’m going to believe you were made just for me.”

To those chasing dreams,

never give up on them.

We are not quitters, you hear me

My eyelids eventually fluttered shut, but right before darkness engulfed me, I thought I heard Aaron whisper, “You feel complete in my arms. You feel like my home.”

And I’d rather have you hating me than not have you at all

I softly bumped my head against the surface of my desk.

“Estúpida.” Bang. “Idiota. Tonta. Boba. Y mentirosa.” Bang, bang, bang.

“Whatever makes you the happiest. Just pick one.”

In that moment, the effect of the baby came back with a vengeance. “I don’t know,” I said, kicking that one out of my head. “I guess one in Spanish makes sense. Bollito? Cuchi cuchi? Pocholito?”

“Bollito?”

“It’s little bun.” I smiled. “Like those bread buns that are spongey and shiny and so cute that—"

“Okay, no.”