Part VII

I threw something out there on the 9th of March... That was #4. This is the seventh part.

He never really knew what to say when she walked through the door, but he felt like saying everything, both right and wrong, from the bottom of his heart. When she said, "hi," it was always met with simple applause from the others in the room, but it spoke volumes about her as a person, given her past and possible future. She was coming out of her shell, scratching at the walls she had built around herself. She found herself in a circle of friends and felt safe and in control. She shifted with a certain delicate sway and questioned even the little things with her "I challenge everything, so what" eyes. Protected from it all, reluctant to shred the singular emotional agreement that was cast in stone so many seasons ago. Giving pieces of herself away had a price and lending an ounce to anyone meant giving away a ton of something that had little in reserve... It was a fear of the known and a genuine calling to something more... The crooked smiles and the sudden stares... They all spoke up, but when noticed, they crawled away for fear of being remembered... Her tentative nature lead some to believe that she may not have always cared, but to the trained soul, it wasn't that she didn't care, but it was that she cared enough to be tentative... Her choices to engage? Always calculated. When he sees her, he sees someone he always thought of and may have possibly met... In a dream, perhaps, or maybe in 4th grade. When he hears her laugh and when he listens to her talk, he thinks about the feelings he calls home. When she shares and, to an extent, explores, he remembers what it's like to believe in something pure and unconditional. And when she stands alone quietly in the shaded room, he recalls times spent with a friend in a backyard on the second floor of his fort reading under the flashlight, counting random satellites orbiting above... One, two, nine. Also alone, quiet and near dark light. It conjures up the understanding of who he is as a person and what it's like to be near and inside certain moments. When together, even in silence, the calming nature of her spirit makes one elicit thoughts only a blooming flower would understand. On any given day, one could only hope to see what he sees... And when it becomes clear that there is more behind her eyes and even more behind her mind... It's there... The foundation and the colors for the painting that could only be on display inside the walls of the most personal of hearts. Does she knows this? Will she know this? Will it matter? Does it matter that he may never tell her that when she has the time, there will always be a place in his story for her? Can she see what he sees? Will she keep it nearby and if so, where? Will she put it away with reservations for a rainy day? Tucked away under her skin? Her protective canopy shimmers, it seems, and she guards it with everything giving bits and pieces to imagine... With hopes of seeing more... To be cherished like a first kiss on Friday night. Her thoughts, channeling everything forgotten and everything asked... With everything in mind... He leaves room for her. So many things come to mind as he looks at the cards on the table. One card stands out as bright as a full moon on Christmas Eve. Her name is Piper. To see her like he does... Is she here? Was she there? His thoughts are clear. Made with conviction. For her. For him. Where is she? Is she coming back?

bsm*