AFTER
Lily
As I walk back home from school on a humid Friday evening, I think about stripping my clothes and leaving them on the floor, trudging into the shower and spending a lifetime under the cold waterfall, wearing pyjamas that are two sizes bigger than me and sitting down to a dinner of pap and soft slices of bread. Seeing Precious on the concrete steps shatter my plans.
"Hey," I choked out.
The last time I saw her, she was out with my dead sister's boyfriend and I was furious at her. Now, I just want her out of my sight but I can't tell her that.
"Lily." She makes no move to come closer or shift so I can get to the door. She watches me with her dark eyes narrowed. I feel oddly self-conscious, I tug on my red hair, waiting for her to comment. When it becomes clear that she is not
