Candy From a Stranger
When I first saw him, I knew I wanted him. There was a selfish whimsy in my chest, a soft little sigh of greed. He was standing on the dock, creaking wood beneath his sneakers and the sound of salt in his ears. He probably couldn’t see me where I was, standing beside those fake faces and the flashing lights; I’m fairly certain the ferris wheel spun a perpetual shadow that cowered around my body like a coffin. He turned his head, pulling the sun closer to the ocean, and I wanted to kiss the sunlight from his lips. It would taste sweeter than any candy given to me by a stranger.