I'm studying saints. And this is what I came up with. Almost flash fiction. Tell me what you think.
_
The confetti was like a the Universe, vomited all over the kitchen floor. I was sitting on the dining room table, my legs dangling contentedly off the edge. I thought about me. I thought that I was good. And that it was good that I was here. Just simply, veritably, sweetly good.
“Smile for me, baby,” I heard her say. “My baby,” she had said, and then she had pulled me into her arms and her head on my shoulder had been like a transport to the center of the sun, where no one is ever cold, but somehow they don’t die in the fire.
I wondered about myself. The shape of my eyes, the way my fingers twitched when I was excited, the color of my skin in the summer sun.
“Like snow,” he had said. “And your eyes like summer -- like sunflowers.” And then he had sat down next to me, and I had rested my head on his shoulder as he drew sunflowers on my hands, and the movie ended in my dreams.
You did it, I told myself. You were you, and you let them be them, and nothing bad could touch you when you were close to Him.
“Christ,” I said into the still air, and I felt the confetti stir under my bare feet. “Christ, please make me like you.”
And then there was a clap of thunder, and rain began to crash down outside.
