Cherry Chapstick

Back in middle school, once again, my locker is smack in the middle of a row of 5th grade ones. However, I'm still 24. At least my classes are still upper level. Grad law seminar, everyone smug, smartly dressed in suits, women with their hair pulled back in peppy ponytails. Some erudite conversation begins and I wonder what the hell I am doing here. Professor, picking up on this, asks the class "who feels they don't belong here" and I am surprised and somewhat comforted that at least half the class raises their hands. We file out. I don't give a fuck about law.

Elsewhere in the labyrinth halls of the school I meet up with old crush. We hash it out, I am happy and apply some sparkly cherry chapstick on to my mouth. We kiss, then I laugh because it is now smeared all over his mouth. I wipe it off with the sense of satisfaction.