He remembers her.
It’s been a decade and five, but she has not aged a year.
“Aleks,” he smiles, holding out a hand;
giddy heartbeat filling the gap between each mesmerized sigh.
The woman called Sen doesn’t even look at him;
chops another firewood and asks, “You’re with the traveling theater?”
“Yes,” he squeaks;
clears his throat. “I mean, yeah.”
“What do you want?”
Her words feel as sharp as her ax now.
Still, Aleks itches to ask—
If she knows him…
If she remembers…
But her brown eyes are suddenly on him.
And his heartbeat starts fading;
*Inspired by the prompt teenage idol from The Daily Post.