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Kalila Holt

 

Mark sleeps with me pulled close against him, so that I can feel his sweat drying on my body. I don’t sleep well. As soon as light leaks into the sky, I slip away from him in slow motion and brush my teeth and pack up all my stuff. The air feels fresh and the lake is still. It would have been nice to come here, I think, just regularly. There are empty cups littered all over the grass and also someone’s shirt.
I walk down the road to where the buses dropped us off and will presumably take us home. There is a bus down there, but the driver is standing outside looking at his phone. He looks up at me. “We’re not leaving for a few more hours,” he says. “You oughta go get breakfast or something.”
“Okay,” I say, but I just walk over to a part of the grass where he can’t see me and I Facetime Nina.
Nina is in bed, her hair an unbrushed nest on top of her head. “Lee?” she blinks, her voice creaky. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m not sure,” I say.
“Hold on,” she says, propping herself up. “Let me duck into the other room.”
As she stands up, I can see Jens asleep next to her with his mouth open. Once he wakes up, I know she’ll tell him everything.

Kalila Holt has published work in wigleaf and The Baltimore Review, and she produces the podcast Heavyweight. Whenever she makes a salad, people say, “Wow, that salad looks great.”