Kissing the Blue

I sit on the airplane, cold and sweating. Home. We’re going home. I feel empty.

We drift up into clear sky, and the Aspen lights falter and dim to dots, then dust. Blank dusk swallows the town, the day, our plane.

I never got away from the blue.

Justin rests his hand on my thigh, and I unclench my jaw. He relaxes his hand. I love him.

“I’ll be a lip model,” I say.

“What?”

“I have good lips.” I’m shivering—my lips are purple—and I couldn’t feel weaker.

Justin turns his chest to me and kisses my face.