THE WORST THING I’VE EVER DONE

was when I was eleven years old
and walking home from school.
I turned a corner
and there were tiny slips
of wedding invitations scattered
in the snow. I felt like a deer
in the middle of an icy highway staring
at the rainbow beams blinding
me. I turned another corner
and met a hunching old man
with an Italian accent
who asked me if I’d seen paper anywhere.
I shook my head and walked
away. When I close my eyes
I still see those slips flapping
in that Wellington wind,
a piece or two stuck under
the root of some tree; my first kiss
I saw the old man’s face
and his white beard
and his downturned brows
and I opened my eyes
to rather look into a stranger’s face
than his.

Quinn De Vecchi was born and raised in Hallandale Beach, Florida, and now lives in the busy Denver of Colorado. They have been published in Grub Street, Chiron Review, The Interlochen Review, The Northern Express, and others.