by Francisco Delgado
She storms through the sliding doors, her boyfriend playing catch-up. From their clothing, they look to be in their early to mid twenties, but the lights above them reveal the developing wrinkles beneath their eyes, their quietly graying hairlines. “You’re so immature,” she exclaims. “You think it’s funny to waltz into a room and shout AIDS for no reason?” He wants to calm her, to finally put this argument to rest. But he’s too busy biting down on his lower lip at the moment, trying not to smile and failing.
Francisco Delgado hopes to receive his M.A. from Brooklyn College by the end of the year. Until then, he can be found wandering the streets of the city, daydreaming.