She can almost forget the last five minutes she just spent accidentally cheating on her boyfriend as she stares up at the pristine sky outside the scratched-up, dirty window of the screeching subway car. The blue immerses her eyes. She could practically drown in it.
A boy is sitting next to her stuttering insincere apologies and she considers, for a moment, telling him to shut up and look at the sky instead.
“I’m so sorry, you know, I didn’t mean to, I couldn’t help it…”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t care,” she reassures him.
He implores, “You still trust me, right?”
“Sure, of course I do,” she pretends.
What he doesn’t know is that she never cared about him. And she doesn’t care about her boyfriend or anyone else for that matter. She is solely in love with the sky. This is her secret. If she gives her heart away to that omniscient blue, she will never be abandoned.
He still won’t stop pretending to be sorry now that he’s taken what he wants of her. Should she inform him that she is not one of the silly underage w***** he hangs out with? Or maybe she is, partially, enough to not protest when he kissed her right before their train showed up.
She looks once more to the sky, which will always satiate her. The blue changes slightly around the horizon fading to grayer pale around the gleaming city skyscrapers. She can breathe, hold it in her arms, surround herself with the clarity presented to her jaded eyes.