by Ligia de Wit
The café is half full when I step inside. My eyes wander, looking for him, as I do every day. The intense aroma of java fills me, making me happy and anxious at the same time, though not because of the sweet treat I’m about to drink. No, today I will attempt to catch a beam of light in my hands, but I’m scared it’ll burn me.
I know his name. I heard someone yelling it in here, and yet I can’t bring myself to say it, to even think of him with that name, since it...