riddle me this
"riddle me this," she says, and i look at her strangely because she pauses, right then.
a minute passes, maybe, and she's still laying on the floor, legs dangling off the edge of the building, steady breathing and if it weren't so late at night i might have been able to make out the pink in her cheeks. "riddle you what?"
"i'm not finished!" she exclaims, and then her eyes snap open and she sits up, leaning towards me.
i laugh, because it seems like the only appropriate thing to do, but she doesn't seem to notice either way.
"if, let's say..." she pauses, again, and this time i don't dare interrupt her, but the break isn't as long so i had nothing to worry about anyways. "if i liked you - hypothetically, of course - would you accept me?"
i shrug. "sure."
"it's a yes or no question, not sure." i want to laugh again, but this time it might not be so fitting, so i don't.
"okay." i shrug again. "yeah."
"why?"
"what do you mean, why? isn't that the answer you wanted?" a smack, then, and suddenly my head is throbbing, and for a reason i can't pinpoint she looks quite irritated. "what the fuck?!"
"what do you mean, what the fuck? what the fuck to you, that's what! what kind of stupid answer is that!"
i rub my head, flinching when i see her hand raise again, and scoot back a little. for safety purposes, of course. "i'm so confused right now. what even are you asking me?"
she groans, then, falling back on to the concrete roof, and if it hurt she doesn't say anything, just throws her arm over her eyes in defeat. "i'm asking you: if i liked you, would you accept me? and tell me why."
"why are you asking me this?"
she groans again, sits up once more, smacks me in the arm but her energy is lost somewhere because it doesn't hurt nearly as much. i'm still very confused. "does there need to be a reason? can you not just answer me?"
"i mean..." i trail off, then, and take a look at her, her legs no longer dangling off the edge of a shifty building but rather curled up to her chest, her hands wrapped around her knees, a vulnerable look in her eyes and i can make out the pink now, under the moonlight, and i can make out the tremors that rake through her body and the goosebumps rising on her frail arms. seventeen, she is. she is seventeen years old and probably more confused than i.
a teenager with the riddle of uncertainty. it's sad, really. there's probably not a single solution in the world.
i fucking hate writing so much oh my god i quit i qUIT. probably gonna delete this later. sigh.