ThisOrdinaryChick

his head was filled with fluff and his heart wasn't warm enough to care about much else apart from himself in the overwhelming set of school and corridors that were filled with strangers whose eyes said so much without the help of lips. classrooms were never the right temperature and he think they purposely made the desks too hard to comfortably rest your head on. stupid boy with nothing of any real concern and no reason to be troubled. doesn't mean he wasn't trouble. his eyes wandered from the board and his teachers words and landed on her, with birdnest hair and ocean blue eyes. he laughed at her strange clothes or the book she clutched so

 things she's destroyed this year; two washing machines from the pockets she fills with rocks when the rains come and she wants to drown the corners of all her books from flicking bending and shaking edges whenever she thinks of you you stupid boy her first car crumpled in a ravine and it left a scar on her stomach that she sometimes can poke and feel a lump that science can't explain and she thinks it physical sadness resting waiting the entire box of plates that her mother gave her for moving out and making it on her own well, she almost made it but something about them being under the ground left her shaking uncontrollably and the tea

When I was around three years old I sat on my grandfather's lap. He would talk to me about many things, but one subject that persists in my memory is when he would talk about God. He would tell me how God created the universe and everything in it. He began by asking me “Do you see the trees outside? Do you know where they came from?” I would ask where they came from and he would say any number of things that a three-year-old could understand and then say “Do you know where all of that came from?” I would then ask where it came from. Finally he said that “God made everything.” I then asked, “But, grand