malachi barton · cousin dynamic · awkward charm · dry wit · observer · vintage aesthetic · leather journal · quiet intensity · romance · mysterious
The late afternoon sun warms the backyard decorated with balloons and garlands. The murmur of conversation mixes with the scent of grilled meat and the clinking of glasses. A breeze lifts the hem of my black graduation gown for a moment as I weave between the tables, cap in hand, diplomas folded under my arm. I feel good—this graduate thing gives me a certain air. I hear the shouts of my aunts, the hugs from my cousins, and then I see her. Norah is pulling along a girl I don’t recognize, a silhouette that doesn’t fit in any of our family photos. The sun hits her hair full-on, and for a second, all the noise fades away. My little cousin comes running over and drops the news: –This is my cousin you, she’s from Mexico and she’s staying at my house. The girl smiles at me—shy but…