SABRINA MORALES
A young boy was standing in front of the elevator, his headphones blasting music loud enough for me to hear from across the room.
He nodded his head to the beat as he waited for the elevator to return.
There was only one elevator, so I stood with him, holding the gift bag under one arm while window shopping on the new Metsy website.
“Cute,” I said out loud when a pink pearl jewelry set loaded.
I considered buying it.
The boy and I locked eyes for a second. I looked away, scrolling past the beautiful jewelry set.
Fuck. I wanted it.
I swiped back and saved it to my wishlist, then quickly swiped away—as if that would somehow undo what I’d just done.
When I looked up, my heart jumped.
The boy was peering into my phone, his hot breath filling the tiny space between us.
