We’re late for Algebra

I see you running towards where I am standing.
I hear you say I’m sorry from afar.
“This is what? 4th time in a row this week?!”
You slow down as you start to jog then stop right in front of me.
“I’m sorry, okay?”
“Alright…Happy birthday.” I smile as I hand to you a paper bag.
You accept it and pull out the dress. It’s the silky tiny half-eaten-red-apples-patterned yellow-green circle dress we saw at a thrift shop six days ago.
“Oh no, you did not.” smiling.
“I did.”
“You really are my best friend and thank you but you know I can’t wear this.”
“You’re welcome. But please keep it. I know you want it.”
“Of course, I do. But my mom will kill me if she finds out about..me.”
“Okay, I’m hearing you. A dead gay friend is the last thing I want.” putting the dress back in the bag.


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