Cromulent: (n) appearing legitimate but actually being spurious
When you were first born, you dreamt of the sky. It was vibrant
blue and wide, the expanse dotted with small wisps of clouds that dragged
lazily in the summer breeze. It stretched endlessly from where you stood in a
field of barley flowers that raced along with the sky to meet with the horizon.
From this, you registered your first emotion; wonder.
Only sparsely scattered trees and a small greenhouse interrupted
the skyline. The moment your eyes touched the shelter, a smile tugs at your
lips. Your feet began to move on their own accord, and then you were running,
running barefoot towards it, ignoring the way small stems caught at the hem of
your dress. As you got closer to the greenhouse, you could spot figure just a
head of it. A young man with his hands shoved into blue overalls, a black tee
shirt and sun kissed skin. The smile on your face became impossibly wider at
the sight of him, and when you were a few feet away, it was easy to see he had
a brilliant one to match. Something warm and dizzying all at once crawled up
your spine, tickled the nape of your neck and stained your cheeks pink. He
opened his arms as you approached him, laughed as you quite literally flung
yourself into him, eyes closed. There was the sensation of falling, and when
you opened your eyes again, you were greeted with the white popcorn paint on
the ceiling rather than the endless sky. The young man was still beside you,
his arms hung loosely around your waist. It takes a second to grasp that
there’s less denim blue overalls and more bed sheets and bare skin.
He didn’t seem to mind though, and neither did you, pressing your
face into his chest as he stared down at you with a somewhat reverent look.
When he entangled your adjoined legs in the sheets, a quiet laugh bubbled up in
your throat, and you met his eyes once more. His hair was a mess, disheveled by
sleep and maybe something more than that judging by the purple bruises that
blossom down his jawline to the juncture of his neck. The young man laughed at
your suddenly bashful expression. His laugh was rich and deep and pure joy,
paired with a boxy smile to pull that giddy feeling again from the base of your
You could hear a voice in your ear, just as warm as you were