Soul food

You beam at me and I can’t help but return the grin. It took us one exchange of snaps to get straight to the ugly selfies. We took that walk to get Boba and you told me about your best friends from back home. We loaded our straws and shot tapioca balls as far as we could and gave each other looks as a muttering homeless man slowed by our bench. Maybe we’ll start a monthly tradition: buy food for the homeless in Westwood.

You’re brave. Creepy doll in the Halloween store? You batted the shit out of her hair. Hilarious. First time on a penny? You slid backwards and met the ground. But you did it again. You’re put-together and I admire you for that talent. I admire you even more for being what I am not.

You have an uncanny ability to bring out the best in others. I don’t understand how you see me the way you do, how you talk about me to the people you meet and even to your friends. I don’t get it but I am thankful. You are a certain kind of exquisite- it’s easy to be shrouded in your radiance. Your energy. Your acceptance. Thank God you were in the ice-breaker circle at an early orientation session and thank God you like my accent.

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