orange juice

The sprinklers had just went off. The grass was sparkling under the street lights, the small lights leading up the house illuminated the wet sidewalk and you could see their silhouettes behind the curtains in the living room window. Your feet felt so heavy and your heart — God, the muscle felt like a boulder in your chest. Some strangers had walked out of the front door, you didn’t know them nor did they you, and you felt their eyes as they sidestepped you, nicely stepping off the sidewalk and into the wet grass to go around your frozen body, but not nice enough to stop whispering, “Who is she?” “She looks so familiar.” Did you look the familiar? Would they think so?