'Fifoldara', by Jessica Fisher Riches
She was going to be one of those people who didn’t go to their senior proms. Yep. That’s where this was headed. That’s what she got for doing a semester abroad.
Idiot.
Mika crossed University Ave in a daze, nearly not making it before the light turned red again. Not like she was in a hurry, or wanted to actually get anywhere. No, better to be in this nice in-between world, like being on a plane: not back there at the scene of defeat, but not yet home—sort of as if time had paused.
Too bad Berkeley didn’t really do weather. Today’s debacle called for symbolic storm clouds, or a full-on rain shower to add insult. The perfect weather was just annoying.
She slowed in front of the hair salon to drag the walk home out, but—pre-prom styling with your best friends, giggling while you got your nails done, all those plans she and Kate made back in middle school. Nope. None of that was going to happen now.
Because Sean Wise said no.
The next block was residential, a typical North Berkeley patchwork of architectural styles and wide streets, so different from the tightly packed Tokyo neighborhood her grandmother lived in. Mika had never been one to notice architecture, but now she noticed everything. Compared everything.
Before Tokyo; After Tokyo.
Two more blocks and she could turn down Francisco Street, but…that would take her past Kate’s house. She really didn’t want to see Kate right now. She probably had a billion texts from Kate, asking about Sean’s answer. But Mika had turned off her phone. Maybe she could just keep walking north, all the way to Solano Avenue. Maybe all the way to Oregon or Canada. And never have to report The Rejection.
It had been Kate’s idea to ask Sean, anyway, when Mika admitted that the only person she even considered an option was Tai Skylar. “Who? No. If you go with Sean, you guys can come with us!” Because Sean was friends with Aaron. Sean, famous for his suspension as a ninth grader for pissing on the bathroom stall door at school and posting it on TikTok.
Before Tokyo, Kate had considered Sean Wise pond scum, had gone on a full-on rant when the TikTok thing first appeared.
After Tokyo, Sean, Aaron, and the prom were all Kate could talk about.
“Come on, Mika. You have to get on it. Everyone already knows who everyone is going with.”
She’d been right.
Before Tokyo, Mika had never imagined this would be an issue. After years of watching prom-themed movies and fantasizing with Kate about the perfect scenario, she’d always thought it would be simple. Now, After Tokyo, their old skater crowd had all graduated, everyone seemed to have paired up, and the Berkeley High social landscape was completely foreign. Ironic.
Kate had locked in her own Dream Prom Scenario in the fall by hooking up with Aaron, latching on to the popular clique, and becoming besties with Jasmine Benson—which was just so weird. Now they were sharing a limo to prom, and apparently Mika had to have a Jasmine-approved date or go on her own. Which had sparked Operation Sean Wise.
Which had failed. So, now Mika was officially not going.
But until she turned on her phone, the only person who knew Mika had been rejected was Lee, and only because Mika’s last class of the day was art.
Continuing straight on MLK, she crossed Francisco without turning, and hit the small row of quirky storefronts just before Virginia Street—stores she’d never seen a soul actually visiting. She slowed again, a flash of bright royal blue catching her eye. She stopped.
A butterfly rested on the sign above one of the storefront windows. Beautiful and strange, as if a monarch had put on a purple coat, the butterfly perched, barely flapping its delicate wings.
Mika had passed the storefront a hundred times without ever noting the name: Fifoldara. The window display hadn’t been changed in her seventeen years: one creepy mannequin wearing an old dress and an absurdly large hat, the whole thing covered in a layer of dust.
Fifoldara. A word she’d never heard before in her life, and now it had popped up twice in one day.
“Papillon, fifoldara, mariposa, sommarfugl, Schmetterling…” Lee had rattled off a list during art class today. She was obsessed with butterflies—said she was going to get a tattoo of one the day she changed her name officially, as a symbol of her transition.
“I’m learning new translations every day,” she’d said.
Lee was the only person so far to be interested in Mika’s semester in Japan, originally cornering Mika to learn the correct pronunciation of Chō, but then wanting to know everything about pop culture, fashion, and school. According to her, she and Mika were both new this year, despite the fact that they’d been at BHS since freshman year.
Today, after class, they’d walked out together and there he was: Sean Wise, on his own, at his locker right across from the art room.
“Wait for me?” Mika asked, already heading in Sean’s direction, Kate’s urgency propelling her like an invisible hand pushing her forwards. Do it before you chicken out. So Lee had waited, and witnessed the whole horrifying thing.
“Um, he—ey,” Mika blurted as she banged into the locker next to Sean’s like a crash landing.
The look on his face right then should have been enough to terminate the whole mission. They hadn’t had a conversation since ninth grade Spanish class. But Kate’s voice was still in her head, still insisting. “Come on, Mika. I mean, you kind of screwed yourself. Who does a semester abroad senior year? You want to go, don’t you?”
Her expression had been clear: Mika was making things inconvenient again.
“Hey?” Sean replied.
“I—” Fuck fuck fuck— “Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to go to prom? With me, I mean?”
A perma-blush had erupted on her face in that instant.
“Oh…”
He stared into his open locker, mouth half open.
She almost felt sorry for him; he looked that uncomfortable.
“Oh,” he said again. “See…”
He pulled a book towards him, then pushed it back in.
“It’s just, um—that there’s someone I want to ask.”
“Oh, right.”
“So…”
He glanced at her for a nanosecond, then back into the depths of his locker.
“Yeah, got it,” Mika said quickly, and too brightly. “Never mind. That’s cool.”
She attempted a casual laugh but it came out strangled.
“Okay, see you.”
Pivoting, she locked onto Lee, who stood leaning against the wall with a pained look on her face.
“Walk,” Mika ordered.
Lee fell into step with her and let out a whistle breath.
“Bro, that was brutal to watch.”
“You poor thing,” Mika muttered. “Do not stop walking.”
“I have to catch the bus. Seriously, though, that guy?”
No. It should have been Tai.
“My friend’s boyfriend is friends with him.”
Lee laughed.
“Wow. You are so overcomplicating it. You don’t need a date. It’s just the fucking prom.”
Mika winced.
“Well, since I just died back there, I am going to be busy on prom night, lying in my social status grave and reflecting on my mistakes.”
“And people call me a drama queen.”
“Shut up and tell me more about your stupid butterflies.”
“Fifoldara” was apparently Lee’s newest language—Anglo Saxon. And the name of this actual store…where an actual butterfly was just hanging out. It fluttered its wings once and settled into stillness.
The door to the shop swung inwards, startling Mika out of her thoughts.
“You should come on in, honey. Don’t just stand there staring.”
An old lady stood in the doorway, her salt-and-pepper hair framing her smooth, walnut-toned face like a compact lion’s mane. She wore loose linen pants and a short, bright pink kimono-style top.
Mika turned her yelp of surprise into a sort of grunt, and gestured at the butterfly.
“I just stopped—to look at that.”
The woman squinted up at the sign.
“Oh my, isn’t that lovely?”
A truck passed and the butterfly took to the air. They watched it flutter drunkenly away until, in a moment, it was gone.
“Well, come on, then, if you’re coming.”
The woman shuffled back into the store, leaving the door ajar.
Mika stared after her. Now what? Just walk away like an asshole? And go home to obsess about the day’s humiliation all evening?
She followed the woman inside.
It was amazing. Mika stood gaping, taking it in. Much bigger than it looked from outside, racks of clothes hung neatly, clearly retro. Glass cases and shelves held specific accessories—sunglasses and jewelry, everything literally awesome. Prints of icons from various decades hung along the tops of the walls like windows to the past. Funky standing lamps illuminated the gloom.
The woman had disappeared into a back room, so Mika wandered the space slowly, touching items, imaging them all hers. What she could do with these clothes…
And then her eyes fell on the boots.
Tall, black suede cowboy boots with bright blue butterflies in a disordered swath up the side. Gorgeous.
She picked one up and let her fingers glide over the soft leather. Turning it over to look for the size, her breath caught in hope and dread.
“Try ‘em on,” the lady said, appearing out of the back. “You look like you’re about to gobble ‘em up!”
Mika bit her lower lip, but hope won out. She kicked off her Vans and slid her foot into the boot.
It fit.
She pulled on the second boot and wiggled her toes. They were perfect. Glorious.
The old lady beamed.
“Now there’s a smile worth waiting for. You looked like a rainy day out there on the sidewalk, carrying your own storm cloud around with you.”
Mika stepped over to a full-length mirror crammed between two racks and admired the boots.
“Yeah…bad day.”
She turned sideways to follow the trail of butterflies around her ankle.
“Asked someone to the prom. He said no.”
They were totally comfortable. But no sign of a price tag.
“Sounds like a jackass,” the woman said.
“Yeah…”
Mika turned around again, eyes still trained on her reflection. How much could they actually be? Probably something crazy; they were magical. She had some babysitting money saved up, plus one otoshidama envelope from New Year. She approached the counter.
“How much are these boots?”
The woman gave her a hard look.
“They’re on sale. Special near-miss reduction. Eighty bucks.”
Mika’s entire body vibrated. She had to have them.
“There’s an ATM down the block, right?”
She reached down to pull the boots off for purchase.
The woman nodded and held up a hand.
“But hold up. Maybe you should look around.”
“Oh—”
“You need a dress for that prom?”
Mika set the boots on the glass-topped counter and surveyed the store. She hadn’t noticed any prom options in her initial perusal. She shrugged.
“I’m not sure—”
“I have some things set aside,” the lady explained. “I meant to have ‘em out last month, but my health hasn’t been so great lately. Couldn’t get to the shop last week. But I think I have something you might like. Let me look.”
She went into the back room.
The prom I’m not going to.
Mika sighed, eyes lingering on the antique brooches, hairpins, and beaded clutches under the glass.
A moment later the lady returned, holding up two vintage dresses. One Mika disregarded immediately, as it was an odd orange color. But the second one…
A 50s-style sleeveless midi dress in black, sparkly tulle, with a sweetheart neck, spaghetti straps and layered mesh skirt. Simple, but edgy, like a punk ballerina. It would shimmer under the lights. Mika took it from the woman and held it up to her body.
“Oh wow.”
The lady nodded.
“Maybe today is your lucky day.”
A burst of a laugh erupted out of Mika’s mouth before she could stop it.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
*
That night, Mika stood in front of her mirror wearing the dress and the boots. She was in love with the outfit, felt she might take off with lightness and sheer, bursting euphoria. Like a different person. Someone with infinite possibilities. Someone with a movie soundtrack.
When was the last time she’d felt like this? Maybe on the plane to Tokyo last July. Or in the cafe near Sobo’s flat, where all the kids from Tokyo International had hung out on Fridays last semester.
She’d already snapped a photo of herself, but hadn’t sent it to Kate yet. Not after she’d finally texted that Sean had said no and all Kate texted back was: —Bummer. Sorry.
No follow-up.
But screw it. She was wearing these boots to the prom no matter what. This outfit was everything. She could squeeze into the limo. Kate wouldn’t just toss out all those prom dreams.
*
Mika got a ride to school from Kate the next morning.
Hair up in a high ponytail, sunglasses on, Kate said, “So, time for Plan B,” as she turned up Francisco. Mika recognized the determined look on Kate’s face: mentor mode.
“We just have to go through the options again.”
Mika said nothing, staring out the window. There was the Witchy House, with the redwood tree on the side. In middle school they’d tried smoking in the space behind the tree, hidden by shrubs all around. The cigarettes were a small theft from Kate’s dad’s office. Then cloves, two years later. Before Tokyo.
“What about a junior?” Kate said.
“Like who?”
Kate pursed her lips and Mika knew: she already had an idea.
“Jasmine suggested Greg Malkin.”
“I’ve never once spoken to him.”
“Well,” Kate said, but took her time finishing the idea. “At least then you could come with us. He’s friends with Josh.”
Of course. Jasmine’s boyfriend. They both played Lacrosse. They were probably all members of the Claremont Club. The limo seats were up to Jasmine.
Mika didn’t respond.
Kate sighed.
“Well, think about it. I’ll talk to you at lunch.”
*
First period passed in a blur.
Mika spent most of it tracking clouds across the sky through the window. Her elation about her boots had tangled into an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. Ask some random junior she’d never spoken to just to honor some stupid old fantasy? Or move on.
But…maybe moving on wasn’t such a terrible idea. And not all juniors were random. Tai Skylar was a junior. Tai Skylar was cute and sometimes leaned across the aisle in Spanish to borrow a pencil in a really hot way. She was pretty sure they’d gone to preschool together. Okay, she couldn’t remember the name of that school, but he was Not Random, and probably not already going to the prom. Plus he rode a skateboard.
Her hands were trembling. She knew where Tai’s locker was. It could solve everything. She had the dress and those amazing boots, and now she’d get a date and it would all be good. It would all be normal.
Mika parked herself at Tai’s locker at lunch and chewed the inside of her lip until she spotted him down the hall. He didn’t seem to catch on that she was waiting for him until he opened his locker and she spoke.
“Hey, um, I wanted to ask you something.”
She should have practiced this. She sounded just as idiotic as she had with Sean.
He looked up from his padlock. Recognition registered, but he seemed nowhere as horrified as Sean had. Count that as a positive.
“Oh, hey. Okay.” He slipped off his backpack. “What’s up?”
“So, actually, I was just wondering if you’d want to go to prom with me? No big deal—you wouldn’t have to buy anything or anything. I’d cover all that. And it wouldn’t be like a date-date—I’m asking you because—not because I want to go on a date, but because I was gone all first semester and sort of figured out too late that I don’t have a date for prom and all the people I normally would ask graduated and are at college now.”
He turned and raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, except for Denise,” Mika amended. “She’s traveling.”
Tai looked at the book in his hand and smiled to himself, and Mika replayed her words in her head.
Crap.
“I mean—” she started.
“So I was, like, your not-even-on-the-list last choice?”
He placed the book in his backpack and closed the locker.
“No! That’s not what I meant. Just—there’s no pressure, like romantically.”
He turned to face her, smiling, and she noticed a freckle by the corner of his right eye. Brown eyes, like coffee through glass.
“Nah, you’re fine. I get it. Thing is, I can’t go.”
“Oh.”
People were streaming by, all headed to the courtyard, and Mika let her eyes wander. Better to look at them than at him. Very unfair that he looked even cuter now that he was rejecting her.
“It’s the twentieth, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I have a performance that night.”
She frowned and drew her gaze back at his face.
“Jazz band,” he clarified.
“Oh.”
“Sorry. I would, but…” He swung his backpack on to his shoulder. “Some other time, I guess?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Tai paused. For a moment she thought he would say something else, but he only quirked a half smile. Then he saluted and walked outside.
“Sure,” Mika mumbled to his retreating back. “Some other prom.”
Turned out Kate had gone downtown for lunch with Jasmine, so Mika went to the Bagelry and met Lee.
“You’re not getting anything?” Lee asked as Mika flopped down.
“I’ll only puke it up. From mortification.”
“Um, okay, princess.”
Mika put her hands over her face.
“I’m now 0 for 2.”
Lee’s face morphed into an O of horrified excitement.
“You asked another one?”
Mika nodded.
“A cute one, this time. A junior. So humiliating.”
“And he said no?”
“He said he had jazz band.”
“Oh, fuck, that’s unreal.”
“No kidding. And I actually think I really like him. I even found a dress yesterday.”
“Let’s see.”
Mika tapped her phone and brought up the picture she’d taken the previous night. She aimed it at Lee.
“Girl. YES.”
“Really? You like it?”
“Winning.”
Mika sat back against the pleather, her tension easing.
“But no date.”
Lee shrugged and picked up her bagel.
“Dates are overrated.”
Mika sent the photo to Kate.
A bit of a pause before the reply:
—I don’t get it.
—For prom.
—Oh. It will work with the right shoes.
“I need coffee,” Mika muttered, and got up from the booth.
*
The evening of the prom, Jasmine hosted them for pictures at her house in the hills.
Mika got dropped off by her dad, since Kate was going with Aaron and wanted it to be “super date-y.” No third wheels.
“Nice boots,” Jasmine said, when she opened the door.
Her volleyball bod was fully set off by her long, slinky, pale pink dress with a slit up to her thigh and sparkly crystal-embossed stilettos. She’d obviously been to the salon, and Mika had to hold back from touching the blond curls cascading down her back. They looked like they wouldn’t move in a storm.
They walked out to the patio, where Mrs. Benson was setting out canapés and champagne flutes.
Kate and Aaron were off to one side, presumably to take in the view of the Bay Area, spread out below. Snippets of Kate’s You’re-So-Charming voice drifted over, semi-audible over the piped in music. Kate wore a green princess-style gown Mika had seen hanging in her closet. Jasmine had suggested it—probably chosen it, probably picked it because it made Kate look like the best friend as opposed to the main character.
Jasmine’s boyfriend Josh was stretched out on a deck lounger with a plate of canapés resting on his tuxedo shirted stomach. He waved a spring roll in greeting.
No sign of Sean yet.
His date had “fallen through,” according to Kate. “Meaning you’re both dateless, so you can both join us in the limo!”
Kate called it fate. Mika called it He Never Had a Date. But she’d agreed anyway. Kate had seemed genuinely invested.
Catching sight of Mika, Kate rushed over, beaming.
“Hey!” She gripped Mika’s arm. “I’m so excited!”
She stared at the boots.
“You wore them.”
A slight questioning edge to the statement, but she moved on.
“You look so pretty.”
“Thanks, so do you.”
She did look happy.
“Let’s have some bubbles.”
Sean Wise got dropped off by his mother and, immediately after pinning the corsage on Mika’s dress, went to show the boys his flask. Mika stood to the side of Jasmine and Kate looking at the sunset while they compared pictures from their afternoon at the spa. Jasmine’s special treat. Mika hadn’t been invited. San Francisco gleamed in the distance, beckoning from across the water, so far away.
That ethereal feeling the dress had given her was also a million miles away. Her boots felt clunky. Why did I say yes? Why had this seemed so critical—like if she and Kate didn’t go to prom together, they weren’t really friends? She gripped the wood of the deck fencing. Maybe we’re not.
Skate’s By the Bay wouldn’t serve minors, but Sean had refilled his flask at Jasmine’s house, and they passed it around the table at intervals, to add to their sodas. Mika, seated next to Sean, noted when he emptied the remainder of the flask into his glass, at least three shots worth.
Just get through dinner.
By the time dessert came, even Jasmine was giving Sean death glares. He’d barely touched his food after his initial six oysters. He kept inching his chair closer to Mika’s throughout the meal, leaning towards her to ask her opinion on the Raiders, more and more loudly, never bothering to wait for a response.
When he put his hand on her thigh to push in for the umpteenth time, breathing whisky in her face, she considered stabbing him with her fork. She opted for shoving his hand away, instead. Then he spilled his Coke and Jasmine ordered Josh to take him to the restroom so he could “get it together.”
By the time they’d paid and were ready to head to the limo, Josh returned to report that Sean had thrown up and was now passed out in the bathroom stall. His dad was on his way to collect him.
Jasmine rolled her eyes and turned to Mika.
“Well, obviously you can still come with us.”
Mika raised her eyebrows.
“Thanks?”
She looked at Kate, saw her clenched jaw, and said nothing.
The girls sat in the limo. Jasmine fumed, and Kate tried to ease the tension by taking limo-selfies. Mika unpinned the corsage and dropped it in the limo ashtray. They watched Sean’s dad and Josh drag-carry Sean out of the restaurant and then the boys returned.
“Bro,” Aaron muttered. “What a dick.”
*
The limo drove across the Bay Bridge as the sky darkened to royal blue with ribbons of orange and green, leftovers from the sunset. Mika kept her eyes on the city skyline as the other four alternated between sucking face and arguing about the music. Jasmine had finally unclenched, and Kate’s nervous glances at Mika were fewer and further apart.
Good for them. At least the city was gorgeous, full of possibilities.
Finally, the limo pulled up at the venue. Mika had pictured a hotel ballroom and wedding-style cheesiness, but The Midway turned out to be a cool industrial space meets cozy cafe, with metal rafters above mixed with funky huge lamp shades. There were comfortable seating areas with rattan rugs, palm plants and long couches, and a dance floor big enough for all 800-plus of them.
Mika drifted away from the others at the coat check when they met up with another mob of their friends. She slipped into the crowd to look for Lee, and found her in a dark corner, surrounded by a few friends in an impressive array of alt attire.
“Yes! You wore them.”
Lee, in a purple grunge-style babydoll dress, sprang off the couch to hug her.
“Completely smashing. Where’s your date?”
“He only made it to dessert,” Mika said. “Then he puked and passed out.”
“He sounds cool,” Lee’s neighbour said as they all scooted over to make room for Mika.
“Right? Dream date.”
“Well, you made it,” Lee said. “That part of the evening is over.”
Mika grinned as the words sank in.
“Fuck yeah.”
They danced.
Everyone danced. Even Lee’s cynical too-cool friends were drawn in. For once, no cliques existed. For those hours, the entire senior class was caught up in the same moment, the same feelings: elation, nostalgia, a shared understanding that the future was ahead. They danced.
Again and again Mika found herself hugging someone she hadn’t spoken to in ages, jumping and shouting song lyrics she didn’t know she knew. Finally, she turned to find Kate there, smiling.
“Mika!”
Kate pulled her to the side of the dance floor but still had to shout.
“You look totally amazing. You were so right about those boots!”
Mika hugged her.
“And I’m sorry about Sean. That was a terrible idea.”
“Forget about it,” Mika said. “I shouldn’t have agreed.”
Kate shrugged.
“Josh is going to make him pay for his dinner, at least.”
Laughing, Mika hugged her again.
“Thanks.”
“Are you having fun?”
“So much! You?”
Kate nodded.
“Look, I’m sorry—”
Mika shook her head.
“It’s fine. Seriously. And I’m going to get a ride back with Lee and her friends.”
“Are you sure? Where are you going after? You can totally come—”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m going with Lee. It’s cool!”
Kate squeezed her arm and nodded. Then she blew her a kiss and slipped back onto the dance floor.
An hour later, Mika made her way past the perimeter dancers towards the seating area.
Sitting on his own with his arm across the back of the couch, watching her approach, was Tai Skylar.
She attempted to quash her grin before she got to him, but it was no use; Tai’s was infectious. They smiled at each other like fools as she maneuvered furniture.
She dropped onto the couch next to him, one knee up on the seat, and he turned his body to face her.
“Hey.”
“I thought you had a thing tonight,” she said.
“I did. It ended.”
“How’d you get in?”
He nodded in the direction of the dance floor.
“I have friends in high places. And I heard there was a date fail.”
Mika followed his gaze. Lee stood at the edge of the dance floor. She bowed.
“I don’t get it.”
“She swiped your extra ticket out of your purse.”
Mika glanced at the antique clutch she’d left on the low table, then back at Lee, who threw her head back in laughter.
“Didn’t she tell you we’re cousins?”
Mika gaped.
“She did not.”
“You look fantastic, by the way.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
“Yeah, my mom said I couldn’t wear my beanie.”
“You told your mom you were coming?”
“Hell yeah. She remembers you from pre-school. Made me wear this jacket.”
He pointed at her boot, half resting on the couch.
“Killer kicks.”
Mika lifted her leg and stretched it across his lap.
Tai raised his eyebrows and nodded at her.
“Nice.”
He put his hand on her knee, and strangely, she had no desire whatsoever to stab him with a fork.
At the end of the night they decided on the post-prom party where they’d meet up. Tai and Mika diverged from the group and headed towards Tai’s car, holding hands. Almost on cue, Mika’s phone pinged twice.
One text from Kate: —I see you! OMG-YAY.
One from Lee: —You’re welcome.
“What?” Tai asked, when he saw her grin.
“Just a strange night,” she said.
“Good?”
“Pretty good.”
They stopped at the edge of the parking lot and turned so they faced each other.
“Okay, then. I’m going to kiss you now,” he said. “I think.”
She nodded.
“I think so too.”
He stepped closer and kissed her once, then again, longer. Sliding his arm around her, he pulled her gently to him and kissed her again, and again, and again, until she was breathless.
In between kisses, the memory came in a flash.
“Wait, was your mom our pre-school teacher?”
“She was.”
“I’ve been trying to remember the name of the school for ages.”
“Kelebek.”
Mika closed her eyes in the sheer bliss of a word remembered. Then she laughed.
“I used to call it Kelly-Becky.”
Tai grinned.
“I think everybody did.”
He snuck in a mini kiss.
“Kelebek,” she muttered.
“Kelebek.” He moved a strand of hair out of her face. “It’s butterfly in Turkish.”
“Shut up.”
“Serious. My mom loves butterflies. Kinda weird, eh?”
He nodded at her boots.
“You have no idea.”
They were the center of an eddy. Around them, departing people called out to each other, goodnights or see-you-at-the-afterparties. Car engines revved, limos queued. The moon and stars sparkled.
Tai smiled again. Mika touched the freckle under his eye with a fingertip.
“Fifoldara,” she said.
“If you say so.”
And he kissed her again.
Jessica Fisher Riches is a teacher, writer and quilter from Berkeley, California, currently living in Prague, Czech Republic. Fifoldara is her first short story.
Photography by Suzy Hazelwood