I remember when she snuck into my room that night and stole my sweatshirt. She didn’t know I was awake. Or maybe she did. I don’t know why she wanted it… it probably smelled like cigarettes. And when she put it on, it nearly swallowed her whole.
When she was outside, I dared look out my window and there she was. Amongst all the thorns and thistles and prickley bushes, drowning in my sweatshirt. She closed her eyes. She held out her arms… and there she stood. She was reaching for something. Something untouchable. That girl really was a mystery. An Alien Child.
Now, here I sit in that very same field, watching the stars come out and writing down all these memories. Always, I reach for her. Something untouchable. And I remember so clearly those first words she spoke to me, and I speak them now. “No more cigarettes. Only lollipops.”
Those are the last words from the novel I wrote last year for NaNoWriMo (national novel writing month). I only recently just finished it. just over 60,000 words.