Molly MacDuff
Stories (3/0)
Stargirl
I watch her stomp across the neon room, sparkled Let’s party! cup swaying in her painted hand. Blond hair straight and shiny in a party pony and a black velvet scrunchie. Her laughter rings in my ears like cymbals. Her maroon lips curve as she talks to a boy with red-stained eyes and a flannel shirt, soon to be her pajamas. In her eyes a thousand glossy stars fade into a dead gaze. It won’t be much longer till the boy takes her away from me. She can’t hear the music anymore. She can’t hear me call to her. I want to drag her off the dance floor, drive her home, wipe off her makeup, tuck her in. Just her and me and the dirty makeup wipe. But the river of Vodka Sodas and White Claws beneath us is too deep. I can’t reach her—only hope she doesn’t drown. I watch as she floats down the river, out the door and out of sight.
By Molly MacDuff4 years ago in Poets