freckles

She drew a hand across her cheek, wiping freckles from her face like beads of sweat strung as a pearl necklace. The sun strained through the clouds and filtered around her face, bringing the red out in strands she'd rather any other color. She envied the melanin, the way it could pack its suitcase and leave. The only thing standing between her and Panama was a boy who didn't know if she was right for him, but she saw something there that seemed brigther than the bands of light along ripples in the canal. Sometimes she felt she was the only one who could.