Once upon a time, the girl was afraid. So the girl ran and ran and ran until her feet weren't touching the ground. The voice in her head saying, faster, farther, faster. Her body yelling, screaming. Stop! Too tired! Give up! No, never, she promised to the moon and stars. The girl listened to her footsteps bounce off the trees and the only echo she heard sounded like: loneliness.
The girl thought about him. The way his hands jumped about when he talked, made her know that eventually his hand would jump into hers and she would foolishly hold onto it. The way his face reminded her of every work of art she had ever seen. The way he looked her in the eyes, surely, studiously, sweetly, made her want to know his secrets.
The boy walked. Alone and slow. He listened to the aftermath of the game: laughter and voices mingling with pride. He heard his name called, but he didn't like how foreign it sounded (coming from other lips). He kept walking, hands in pockets; thinking, thinking, dreaming, thinking.
Once upon a time, the boy looked up into the same sky he saw every night. He saw the same cream-colored imperfect orb. He saw the same, stars dying gracefully, gifting the earth with an echanting glimmer. But tonight they belonged to her; in the moon her saw her lips, full and expressive. The stars, of course her many smiles, some wise, some filled with mischeif, some glowing and some sad. She was all around him; air, wind, light, darkness. The world hanging from her fingertips.
She was the place where the lines between everything and nothing met.
The girl stopped running and whispered her promise again. Feeling alive, the girl smiled. Feeling the possibility in the air, the girl laughed. And her laugh broke into a million little pieces, scattering into the crisp September air.
A few miles away, while unlocking his door, a breeze grazed his face and the boy smiled without reason.
-Whit
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