Jane

by Philip David Buettel

When I was thirteen I knew a girl named Jane. She was beautiful — skin like snow; eyes like a summer sky; hair the color of the forest floor in autumn; gentle like the wind. But she had a deformity on her upper lip, so that one side looked larger than the other. To me, the difference was nothing, and I would spend most of my time in class glancing her direction in the hopes I could catch her eye. She, however, seemed to imagine something far more grotesque, and would spend her time, hand to mouth, averting her gaze and shifting uncomfortably. She hung herself before I got the guts to talk to her, which was a shame; I would have kissed those lips forever.

6S

Philip David Buettel is currently working on completing his BA in English Writing from the University of Colorado at Denver. He is experienced in secondary education, theater, film, graphic design, astronomy and biblical & historical studies.