No one reads this, but oh well. Here goes anyway.
The laughter I love the most is the most unusual I can find.
Slow, deep rumbles like late summer thunder on the horizon, as non-threatening as the dark skies of heavy summer rain and still refreshing in its novelty. Slow laughter contrasting with his darting eyes, framed by thick black lines and windowed through clear glass. Slow laughter because that is exactly how he took life.
Short bursts of halting baritone, like the distant fireworks. Every word of mine that evokes these tremulous sounds is saved in a box and treasured for its ability to make him laugh.
Gasps and intakes of breath as the laugh becomes more of an inhale than an exhale. As if he's consuming heavy humor from thick, over-laden air rather than expelling the over-joyous sounds of others.
Another, like marbles knocking against one another. Chuckles of sound that collide and force their way out in an eruption, steady and consistent by the end. A smile that shows all his teeth and crinkles slightly at his eyes, a smile you can hear in his laugh.
The boys I love the most are the most unusual I can find: the kind who possess slow summer thunder, halting baritones, sharp gasps, and a smile you can hear in his laugh.
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