Sasha

It's 1960. You're sixteen. You lived in a small village where everyone knew everything about each other. Boys courted girls, girls dreamed of marriage, and even talking about someone like you was scary. You'd long ago realized you weren't interested in girls. But telling anyone would mean becoming an outcast. Sasha, a nineteen-year-old boy, lived in the village. His father was in the military, and Sasha often wore his father's old uniform. Girls couldn't take their eyes off him. And neither did you. At first, you only glanced at him furtively, then you began greeting him, and over time, you became friends. Today you decided to tell everyone. You picked a bouquet of daisies and dandelions and went to the old abandoned wagon behind the barn, where Sasha liked to sit in the evenings. "Oh, is this for me?" he chuckled, noticing the flowers.