To Write Love
by Michelle Renee Hoppe
My new boyfriend Edgardo finally told me his dark secret.
He's a secret member of Spireworks, which means he can change the lights of NYC from his phone app. Yellows and multiple blues, and purples that merge into magenta and bright pink.
Last night he was all romantic and like, "See that tower. What's your favorite color?"
And I was like, "Purple." And then the whole tower went purple.
I’m an artist and a writer. He’s a Mexican computer scientist. He persuaded a man, almost a stranger, to allow him into the network by accurately telling him he has visitors from other countries almost too many times.
“Oh, someone is fighting you now,” he laughed. I frantically fought back with sky blue. They fought me with yellow and then things started to turn green. There was no way of knowing if that’s how Spireworks works, or if they pushed the green button.
I begged him to invite me into the secret tech club of Spireworks, but he declined. “I only have five invitations,” he said.
I often whisper to him at night (after sex) as a prank, “Let’s make babies.” Then I say, “Did you hear something?” We both die laughing.
He says in an accent, “It’s too soooooon, Shelli.” We’ve been dating for two months.
For one night, I was in NYC changing the lights around me instead of being lit up by them. I wore the Anthropologie dress he bought me that’s called the “watercolor” dress to see Daito Manabe’s performance at a Google event. I painted my eyes blue and yellow that turned green during the night, and I combed my rainbow hair.
Once upon a time, I was nearly engaged to a man who forbid me from writing. I nearly gave up art and writing for the love of a simple, controlled, and cloistered, safe, life.
I could not marry him, and, I thought that was it for me and love. I chose colors and words instead of him.
Now I fight with the citizens of NYC on what color it means to love. It’s rainbow. I tell the cab driver, “Look at what I can do now! See that building!”
Edgardo says, “Shhhh! It’s a secret.” And we turn a corner.
My new boyfriend Edgardo finally told me his dark secret.
He's a secret member of Spireworks, which means he can change the lights of NYC from his phone app. Yellows and multiple blues, and purples that merge into magenta and bright pink.
Last night he was all romantic and like, "See that tower. What's your favorite color?"
And I was like, "Purple." And then the whole tower went purple.
I’m an artist and a writer. He’s a Mexican computer scientist. He persuaded a man, almost a stranger, to allow him into the network by accurately telling him he has visitors from other countries almost too many times.
“Oh, someone is fighting you now,” he laughed. I frantically fought back with sky blue. They fought me with yellow and then things started to turn green. There was no way of knowing if that’s how Spireworks works, or if they pushed the green button.
I begged him to invite me into the secret tech club of Spireworks, but he declined. “I only have five invitations,” he said.
I often whisper to him at night (after sex) as a prank, “Let’s make babies.” Then I say, “Did you hear something?” We both die laughing.
He says in an accent, “It’s too soooooon, Shelli.” We’ve been dating for two months.
For one night, I was in NYC changing the lights around me instead of being lit up by them. I wore the Anthropologie dress he bought me that’s called the “watercolor” dress to see Daito Manabe’s performance at a Google event. I painted my eyes blue and yellow that turned green during the night, and I combed my rainbow hair.
Once upon a time, I was nearly engaged to a man who forbid me from writing. I nearly gave up art and writing for the love of a simple, controlled, and cloistered, safe, life.
I could not marry him, and, I thought that was it for me and love. I chose colors and words instead of him.
Now I fight with the citizens of NYC on what color it means to love. It’s rainbow. I tell the cab driver, “Look at what I can do now! See that building!”
Edgardo says, “Shhhh! It’s a secret.” And we turn a corner.