Last Kiss in Tiananmen Square

by Lisa Zhang Wharton

  “Meihua, wait a minute.” Uncle got up quickly, opened the bottom draw of the dresser and pulled out a beautiful pair of stone washed blue jeans. “Please give these to Mingming.” Then he turned around and never looked back.

  The sun glared in the sky like an iron sphere, the air hot and still. Summer had arrived. Young women, wearing bright colored skirts and broad brim hats, rode their bikes slowly and beautifully. Young men, dressed in tight blue jeans and fashionable sunglasses, comfortably wrapped their arms around the young ladies’ bare smooth shoulders.

  I adjusted my sight, and everything became much clearer. I walked faster, trying to catch up with everyone.