Astromante (astromante) wrote,


I sat at the table happily coloring the outlines with a crayon. Years ago, I didn't enjoy this sort of task, as I would grab a color and jerkily drag it across the lines. As I filled in the space, each curve reflecting a nuance of another reverie, I felt like the entire world was there with me, and my sensation was tingly and warm.

He walked in and called my name. I was a bit startled. I did not want to raise my field of vision.

He asked: "Aren't you going to look at me?" 

I wanted to stay focused, fingers pressed on paper and moving. I felt like making an impression...I was going to be solid... I thought: why? It was, after all, the perfect moment to express.

I looked up, gently. He stood there, staring.

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