pretty

I walk above the basketball court after yoga, centered, peaceful, body stable and relaxed. My fingertips run over the red balcony bar and my face is gently uplifted. From below, he looks up at me with a smile, blond hair, and says simply, kindly, "You're very pretty." I look down at him and smile, and I begin to mouth "thanks" but don't speak; we just continue smiling for another second and then continue on our ways. Now, I walk with a delicacy that makes me feel like a girl, not rough, or boyish because of my hair. My lips feel a little more colorful, my eyes slightly brighter. "I am very pretty." This is a co-creation between girl and boy, of a woman's beauty.