on the 9th, we met in the middle of the street. he had a bouquet of flowers wrapped in purple tissue paper and i had a pretty face, skinny legs and the most adorable ignorance ever.
back home to a warm house on a winter night, a cold, confused family and a big wok of prawn pad thai.
a red candle with an unknown scent burned nostalgically in the middle of the table as i carefully peeled sticky tape from pretty wrapping paper – doc martens, a retro sweater and the white album.
loving eyes blinked back tears, and i decided to be happy that i was living my 15th year, rather than sad about how fast time was passing.
in my bedroom, the cd spun in the pink stereo i had received on that day eleven years prior.
i sang crazily and ironically to ‘birthday’ with every intention of making him cringe. he performed ‘why dont we do it in the road?’ bollywood style, with the same intention.
i went to sleep in my bed and he went to sleep in the guest bed. on the 10th, we went ice skating.