Aphorism: 406

406: Time fills itself through the constant demands of other (George Murray, Quick)

Time is meaningless. I mean that literally. What exactly is one second? Can you hold it? Have you ever held time? Have you ever sold time? As in, you stood there for ten seconds doing nothing, and you earned a dollar? Have you ever converted time? As in, you found a way to convert ten seconds into a minute. As in, you took the world’s collective ten seconds and moved the universe a minute ahead in time. That all sounds ridiculous. Time is after all a temporal concept. It’s not something that can be melded in reality. It’s just an understanding. As in, we understand that twenty-four hours dictates roughly one revolution of the earth. That is as physical as time can get. And even so, what of it? We might as well say that one hour equals ten minutes. And I can even say that my one day is actually made up of two hours. That sounds even more ridiculous. But what if my seconds are actually worth a million of your seconds?

That’s why we’ve created a shared system of units for time. We can all agree on a second, and a minute, and an hour. It makes everything streamlined. But how does one go about fitting such a psychic concept into something so streamlined as time? It’s like giving a unit to a shared understanding of boredom. I’m two dry paint walls bored.  And despite this, we still say, we have ten minutes left, and an hour to go. Everyone will nod, everyone knows.

Time is meaningless, but we need it to have meaning. We wouldn’t be able to do a single thing without having a gauge of how long it took or when we need to stop. I don’t think time has ever meant anything when it was first conceived. Time was just looking at the sun rise and fall. It never asked to be set into months and years. It never asked to have a date to which the next party happens. It never asked to hold onto the day in which your graduation is supposed to happen. But it does. And it does so without complaining. It holds onto every one of your precious memories. You say you remembered last week. Or you say, on that day, and time will hold onto that for you. So you shouldn’t complain about time. You should never call time, wasted. As in, I wasted that day. You didn’t. It’d be disrespectful to time if you half-heartedly threw that around.


How’s everyone doing?

It’s been a strange few weeks and months as I settle down and really harbor down on my own writing. It’s definitely been an ebb and flow of revelations and stalwart stillness. But no matter what, this is something that I can’t seem to escape. It’s a notion that I think many of us can relate to. We can’t escape the words that squirm on our pages and the worlds that draw us in. That’s just who we are, and at the same time, we have to learn to fail, and learn to grow. There’s no wasted effort in art, is something Burnie of Roosterteeth said, the same guy in a spare bedroom with his friends who talked into age old mics over Halo who then went on to create one of the most influential companies in the online sphere. There’s no wasted effort in art because we put everything we have in the moment to create art. And if it sucks, then it sucks. We learn. We fail faster so we can strive to create something amazing. But that only counts if we manage our leases and mind our manners to the ensuing failures that berate being an artist in a saturated society.

But I’m not here to ramble philosophy. No, not at all. How’s everyone doing? All your writings and project been going well I presume? I’ve been following a few on Twitter and they seem to be making strides, as should it be so. Small strides, big strides, it doesn’t matter. Progress is progress, and moving just 0.01% closer to your goals is better than naught (Shattered Dreams reference *cough*) which, speaking of Shattered Dreams has been closed off for now. In other words, I’m putting the bow on it as I’ve gone through and spent countless hours staving away its editing to the point where if I keep dwelling on it I wouldn’t be able to write anything else. So much like my other works, it’ll sit for the annals of time and possibly be of use in the future. I still really like what I made for Shattered Dreams. But, the actually topic isn’t that dusty (it hasn’t been that long but still) tome that I’ve made. It’s another dusty (hmmm) tome that I’ve made called SchoolOfWords.

Here’s the short spiel of it, SchoolOfWords is one word prompts turned into flash fiction so we can all have fun learning new words. And I’ve now combed through two/three words of every letter of the alphabet all the way to Z. So that’s roughly 50 some odd words covered. And originally I was going to reset so that I’ll start from A and work my way down again. But what the hell, let’s spice things up.

I’m going to keep the spirit of learning new words in fun ways. But this time, I’ve decided to learn foreign words. More specifically, foreign words that don’t exactly have an exact English equivalent.  So, thus starts a new season of SchoolOfWords, and all is invited. I’ll be posting today’s first word over there, so check it out if you will. On another note, how’s everyone doing?


Up Here, Down There

Up Here, Down There

Just being on Earth was enough for me. I remember seeing the sunrise one day when I was home in the country. The cool fall winds came in swirls as the leaves rustled in a twisted dance. Our wind chimes whistled with the tree trunks. A cold glass of apple juice came onto my lap. My father smiled and pointed towards the sky, his words lost in my memory. I held my head high, the clouds parting. I thought I was being swallowed up by the sun. It eroded every part of my face, blinding me the more I stared. When I squinted to ease the pain, it became like a flickering flame.

It was the last day of summer when I realized how little I had done. Coming into the city never fazed me. I thought I should have been a good citizen, tour a little and see what made the apartments so grey. I never did like the steps of the streets. Everyone was brushing past me, trying to find something I couldn’t quite understand. They were frantic, their eyes peering into a world I had no business in. Even if I had come into the city, they knew I didn’t belong. Why would I? I couldn’t stand in. Eventually I stopped trying. Except I knew that my parents wouldn’t be so forgiving if their thousand dollar expenditure turned into soot.

The streets were devoid of the usual roaring cars and stampeding feet. My steps lingered in the air. I couldn’t stop noticing them. The burning air wrapped around my arms and legs, wanting to send me to Earth. Taking off any more layers would have been dangerous. Though perhaps it would have made a great story.

The buildings that overlaid every corner were like sentries over the horizon. Large red signs and painted women splattered on every window. Even the street lights and telephone poles lost semblance of their purpose. I nodded to the closed pizza store beside the four way. I stopped to peer under its sign board. Mounds of gum was still stuck there. As I walked up to the edge of the sidewalk I heard the sound of a bell. The rotation of its wheels on the pavement muddled with my footsteps. That sound soothed me. A second more and I would have been sent flying.

“Ah damn it. You’re not hurt are you?” He said, his bike briskly on the hem of my shirt. His voice flew off the air. I laughed when I saw his dead eyes and half strewn hair.

“Really? I thought I was going to get yelled at by another old dude,” he said with a sigh.

“Sorry I couldn’t live up to your expectations,” I answered as he put his bike on stand. He walked towards me and looked over at the stoplights ahead. Not a single car came by. He stretched his hands up into the air, and then began reaching down for his toes.

“You doing some morning exercise too?” He asked as he got up to thrust his back. I turned away. His bike had chipped. The blue paint began to meld into a steel. He had a sticker of an exhaust pipe on the seat tube. I wondered why no one ever told him the price tag was still on the seat post.  My father would have died hearing that.

“Who do you think I am Joel?” I asked as I shrugged. I didn’t know why I was friends with Joel. I bet he couldn’t tell me why either. We just happened to like the same pizza store that ran the four way. I really did wish that someone would point out the price tag on his bike.

“I think you’re the type of guy who would almost get run over by a bike in the morning, Eli.” He brought his face to the glass window of the store. Its darkness pervaded him. He shrugged. I couldn’t help but join him.

“You think they carry their store home?” He asked as he side eyed me. The chairs and tables were set up in rows. The counter was guarded by glass, and the broken clock was still beside the menu.

“Like they bake pies for dinner,” Joel added, his eyes glued to a fly buzzing about. I never did peg the store to be anything but dingy. When I first ordered, it took thirty minutes. Something to do with the oven breaking down. Tasted like cardboard but the cashier gave me a bag of chips for free. They were stale. The water was warm. But I loved the place. Joel shrugged once and went over to take the stand off his bike.

“I better get going. The morning’s young but I’ve got a game to catch.” I almost forgot Joel put fifty on the game at lunch. He was too scared to put a tab on the night show. Said the anxiety would kill him. As he began to roll his bike, I stopped him. He was right. The day was young. Those words reminded me of the sunset I saw back home. I had yet to see one here. He looked at me with raised eyes.

“Mind doing me a quick favor?” He sighed. He had been here ever since he was born. I figured he would know a good spot or two for when I needed to be up there and not down here. He nodded to me.

“You know any good spots around here where you can see the sunrise?” I asked. He snickered. He rolled his bike down onto the streets. The stoplight flashing red. I followed.

“The sunrise?” He looked up towards the buildings that watched over us. His eyes loomed into that rising sky. As we finished crossing, he chuckled.

“The last thing I thought you’d ask me is seeing a sunrise. Actually, that was never on my mind.” He stretched his hand towards the sky, letting out a small groan.

“Come on, let’s go.” He began walking his bike, allowing me to meet his stride. The clouds seemed to mimic our steps as we moved away from the grey of the city. The buildings lowered as the sidewalk began growing vegetation. Wild flowers simmered with the wind. I felt my entire body lighten. I began to construct a narrative for my father. He would have believed anything his sweet little boy told him. Perhaps I had a girlfriend here. Perhaps I stopped my best friend from overdosing drugs. Or perhaps I was just barely getting by, scraping the ends of the street for some semblance of my life. He’d even like that. He never did bring me out to see sunrises after that day. I never got to ask why.

“It’s been so many years since I last saw a sun rise. You’d almost think you couldn’t. But you’d be surprised,” Joel said as he stopped his bike and kicked his stand down. We were standing in front of a construction site. Piles of steel garters, wood, and bags of cement were strewn about near the fence. I couldn’t quite tell what the construction was but before I had time to think, Joel started, “You see that crane there? That’s where we’re headed.” I looked towards the tower crane that stood overlooking the site. Its body ran for the sky, its arm out stretching the length of a two homes. Its steel wanted to glisten.

“There must be some law against sneaking into a construction site,” I said as I followed him up the fence.

“As long as we don’t get caught,” he answered as he plopped onto the dirt. Our feet bellowed a small sand storm.

“Why isn’t anyone here?” I asked as we strode towards the crane.

“That’s a good question. This has always been here ever since I could remember. They’ve never made progress. It’s not even on the news. People just don’t care about it. But it sits here watching,” his words fell into my ears like the soft spluttering of rain. I could hear my home’s chimes as his hands meshed into the steel of the crane. He kicked a line in the dirt before ascending the ladder.

“You know what this was supposed to be?” I asked.

“Who knows. I’ve tried asking. No bites.” The quiet sift of the air brought me back to my home. I forgot I was in the city as we climbed.

“You into sunrises?” He asked as we reached the top. He shifted into a crawl as he went up the lane of the arm. We weren’t high enough to touch the clouds, but as I stretched my arms towards the sky, I wondered if I could. My childhood was ecstatic.

“Not really. I saw one when I was a kid. But that was out in the country.”

“I see. It’d make a good memory seeing one in the city. Not many people can contest that they’ve ever seen the sun,” he said with a chuckle. He sat at the edge of the arm, his legs dangling in a pendulum. I crawled towards him, the steel sending shocks to my skin. I took a whiff of the material. It was rusting. The buildings that surrounded us barely made my eye line.

“Being up here is totally different than being jacked up on a blunt. You can’t really say you’ve been in the clouds until you’re this high. Literally,” he laughed. I couldn’t help but join him.

“Do you have anything like this back home?” Joel asked as he brought his hand towards the steel of the arm, allowing his fingers to trace its dust. Before I answered him, I took a whiff of the air. It was warm no matter where I was.

“There’s an old train station. Rundown place with vines. Cold as hell if you go in. No matter what season it is. There’s an abandoned tunnel in there. I think they wanted to connect the country and city with it,” I answered with a chuckle. My father loved going down there and exploring the tunnels that were never used. Broken glass and ruble lined the floor. The tracks were brown, touching them would have gave us as any number of strange disease.

“Sounds like a hell of a place. If I ever visit the country you should bring me there.”

“Except its nothing like seeing a sunrise. Country sunrises are so–Well, I haven’t seen a city one.” He laughed.

“But I’m sure that no matter where you are, being up here will always feel better than being down there.” He closed his eyes as he brought his hands out. His feet stopped, they hung like necks. The warm winds made me itch for a cold glass. I closed my eyes, and waited. The crane creaked in the ensuing gust. My entire body tightened as my skin wanted to melt itself. As I opened my eyes, I half expected my father’s hand on my head.

“And here it is.” He pointed towards a spot between two buildings where the sky began to bleed yellow. It was as if the world was slowly burning away. It blinded me, and as I squinted to ease the pain, it became like a flickering flame. Somewhere in that painted sky was the distant ocean of my home. But that all faded as the crane churned in our weight. My body shook as I looked down at the dirt. It would be splattered with red if I sneezed. I turned back towards the sunrise. The sky was alive, it made me want to stand, and so I did. Joel didn’t peep a word as he turned to see me with my arms out, fluttering in the wind. I imagined the entirety of that sky swallowing me whole. At least now I had a story to tell.

Aphorism: 201

201: The third law of notion: every action has an equal and opposite distraction (George Murray, Quick)

Would you like to write sir or madam? Yes, but first, I must delve into a world of fantasy on my computer, read two more chapters of this book, find out the reason why everyone loves Game of Thrones, and walk my dog.

Okay, you are writing now, sir or madam. You are 100-words in, and– Hold on, a sudden urge has stricken me. I must first check my e-mails for ten minutes. Browse videos on YouTube for another twenty. Check if the latest news is still about the current U.S Pres– Of course it is. I’ll open the curtains only to be blinded by the sunlight. Stare out at my neighbour for ten minutes hoping to catch a crime in secession. Wallow in my fridge that nothing interesting happened. How long has it been?

Your pace is quite exquisite, sir or madam. You are 500-words in, and– WAIT. No, sorry, random thought. You see, if I had three arms, I could write with two and– Well, I could eat with the other. I could scratch my leg while writing. Now wouldn’t that be neat. And if someone was behind me, I’d be able to deflect them, all while writing. You see, having three arms is infinitely more advantageous than our current evolution states. Why don’t we have three arms?

It seems that you are almost done with your thought, sir or madam. You are 1000- words in, and– Oh that’s a relief. Things seemed to be going quite well. Okay, I guess it’s time to dose off in my home and see if I have something interesting to do. I guess not. Nothing much other than dust. A lot of dust. Like, LOADS of dust. You wouldn’t believe it. I made a dust bunny! Like, an actual bunny made of DUST. How the hell?

The final stretch is within view, sir or madam. Your story is wrapping up, dramatic tension, character development, and– PIE. I think I want pie. Be right back. Okay, ate pie, now I want ice cream. Should have gotten ice cream on pie. Note taken. Okay, time to go get ice cream. Ate ice cream. I wonder why the cliché for sad people is eating ice cream. You often see tubs of the damn stuff being downed because of a break up or something. Me? If I’m sad? I write. Get all that emotion on paper, let it drown in misery. Ice cream is for eating and happiness. And being cold. And the possibility of brain freeze.  

Now that you are finished, sir or madam, it is time to edit and– Taking naps. I love taking naps.

And now that I might have your attention, quick little update before I settle with making a more focused post, but, Shattered Dreams is officially over for now. Eight chapters of episodic drivel from my mind in the form of a web novel, and after spending an ungodly amount of time editing, am at least somewhat happy with it. It was fun, even if it may not be objectively great or anything. It was really fun and I’m really proud to have made what I did. If anything, no creation, no work of art should ever be considered a waste of effort. Words from Burnie Burns of Roosterteeth, and words I’ve come to live by. There is no wasted effort in art. You just make.

Also, new season of my micro-fiction blog coming soon. So yeah.

Oh yeah, the style of this post greatly resembles my micro-fiction blog as well, but doesn’t exactly fit with the theme per se. I might drop more of these aphorism “responses” here just for the hell of it. It was fun writing anyway.

Shattered Dreams, Chapter 8: And so we came to know each other a little better

I collect shattered dreams. However, on that day I didn’t. I propped myself up and felt the linen of the bed sheets on my fingers. My room was unchanging, a white coat that followed every line and crevice. There wasn’t a single light in my room, but it was unbelievably bright. I traced my eyes over a line that ran with the connecting walls. I wondered if one day that line would shift into a blue. I wondered if I would even notice.

“I’ll never get tired seeing you wake up like that,” Lottie said as she flew her way over to my table. Lottie is a part of my existence. She’s a child with light brown hair that wrapped around her body.  I dragged her humanity away, turning her into a divine. That was the day I found her shattered dream.

“How is it like to sleep?” I asked. I honestly wondered what it was like to sleep. Sometimes I wished I could be human. Even if only for a moment. Lottie flew over to my side of the bed as I begun to slip out.

“You’re not missing out on much,” Lottie began as she shrugged, “Some people might even say it’s a waste to sleep.”

“And yet you still sleep?” Lottie shrugged. She planted herself in my bed sheets. The thump resounded in the air. A moan followed as she stretched. Her body rolled to face the ceiling.

“For humans it’s not really a choice. If you don’t sleep you’ll die of exhaustion. Your body needs to rest.” I edged over to the ledge of the bed. I watched as Lottie closed her eyes. I stood and traced my hands over the cold of the glass jars on my desk. A single clink from my fingers made my marbles glitter in white.

“And besides,” she continued, “Waking up from a good night of sleep feels amazing.” She smiled with a breath, “Not that you would know.” Another clink and they glittered even brighter.

“Not that I would know any kind of pleasure.” I moved my hand over to the teddy bear propped up at the back of the desk. Its fur danced on the soles of my finger.

“Right. All you ever do on your day off is doze off. I wouldn’t be surprised.” Lottie flew to my desk, and sat beside the smaller jar. She held it in her hands, bringing it towards her face.

“Though we have been going out more often.” She smiled to my side.

“Every once in a while I feel like I need to pay homage to being human.” I smiled. She let down my jar, and opened its lid. Although Lottie was only a part of my existence, she still had her own brand of divinity. She was an expert at gathering information. She placed her hand into the opening, and grabbed a shattered dream. As it left the jar, it became a silver earring. My memory ran a mountain trying to remember the human who gave me that dream. I fell a few thousand feet. Lottie closed her eyes. The earring glimmered in her fingers, and her hair began to rise.

“How was it?” I asked as Lottie lowered the dream back into the jar.

“Incredibly human.” She closed the lid.

“Have you ever given me a reason as to why you brought me over to this world?” Before I could think she placed one hand over her hips and pointed at me, “And I expect a real answer.” I couldn’t help but to laugh.

“Every answer I give is a real answer. I can’t help myself.” Lottie retracted her hand and flew on my shoulder. Her hair fluttered in my face for a moment. She was weightless.

“You’ve been afflicted with so many humans, that I can’t tell when you’re speaking with me, or at me.” Her words stung the air around us. Her grip stiffened on my shoulder. I walked back to my bed, and propped down onto the ledge. I reached my hand over towards Lottie, but never made her skin.

“Do you hate me for that?” Lottie left my shoulders, and flew in front of me, her hands outstretched. I raised my hands, and let her rest her cheeks onto my palms. I didn’t know why I did or said the things I did. When I was first born and made to collect shattered dreams, I did so empty.

“I don’t think I can ever come to hate you anymore.” Her breathing came to a lull. She let go of my hand, and stood floating with her arms behind her back.

“If I came to hate you, I’d be denying myself a chance to be human.” Lottie’s voice simmered into a breeze in the room.

“Yet you’re a divine.” She let out a breath and nodded. I wanted to reach out to her and hold her in my arms. But my body didn’t respond.

“That’s exactly why I can be a human,” she smiled. Everything about us was fake. And yet I found great comfort in knowing that.

“Staying in here would only be depressing,” I started, “If we’re going to talk, it might be better to do it out there, than in here.”

“Do you have a suggestion? It’s not like we can control where we go out anyway.” I smiled without realizing.

“We can’t. But you can.” She smiled. We made our way to my door. Lottie placed one hand over its frame, and closed her eyes. Her body emanated a white aftershave. I held my hand on the knob, ready on her command. I watched her body tense, her pulse growing. As the white glow around her came to blind me, she opened her eyes, and I opened the door.

“I’d expect nothing less from you,” I said in jest. Lottie was panting as the cold air around us stung our bodies. Our hair danced with the wind. As I took a step, a ring resounded on the roof we stood. The door behind us closed in a bellow. The sky was clouded, and an orange paint was rolling its way over towards us. I walked to the ledge of the roof and looked at the empty streets and darkened windows. The air that rolled up our building was quiet.

“Makes you want to be human,” Lottie said as she sat on the ledge. She began kicking her feet, bouncing them off of the concrete. Her hair flayed itself on the grey beneath her.

“Wouldn’t be much human if we were just talking.” I sat beside her. A window’s glow came within view. I watched as the curtains opened. A young woman with short dark hair peered her face against the glass. She opened her window, and took in a breath of the air around her.

“You are a divine who talks. It’s only natural.” I wondered that myself. A car came rushing by on the streets. It stopped for no lights.

“What a gift I am to the World of the Living.” Lottie raised her eyes with a snicker.

“Even so you might be the most dangerous divine yet.” A tree whistled in the distance. It’s cries would alert the woman at the window. Lottie pointed towards the corner store. A lady in white came to sweep the fallen leafs.

“Were you following her?” I smiled.

“Not at all.” The orange blood of the sun washed over us in an instant. Lottie braced her eyes with her hand. The woman at the window watched through the peeks of her roof. I listened to my pulse.

“You’re like a poison,” Lottie said as she lowered her hands. Her face was sandblasted in yellow.

“Would I be a bitter poison, or a sweet poison?” She laughed.

“Definitely bitter.”

“And you’d be a sweet poison?” She shook her head.

“I’d be the appetizer. If ever a human meet me first, they’d think I’d be a harmless fairy. But even harmless fairies can leave the stench of a divine on a human.” The woman at the window left for a moment. She came out soon after with a steaming cup. She took a sip as she watched the clouds.

“However, as a divine, you only leave a subtle hint. If it was me, they’d be doused in a world they’d never come to understand.” Lottie swayed to her sides.

“That’s why you never have any human friends,” Lottie added with a small smile. She shifted her eyes to the woman I followed.

“That and your door has a mind of its own. You think that’s coffee?” I squinted and saw the black liquid flowing in her cup. She took another sip. Beside her, another window opened. The lights were kept off. A man barely shaven walked out, his hair reaching for the skies. He waved at the woman. They laughed.

“Watching them like this makes me feel–”

“Human.” She nodded.  The air began to swirl around us, enrapturing our bodies. It flung Lottie’s hair behind her. I reached my hand over in an attempt to wipe her bangs away. My hand barely connected as she stood on the ledge and began to walk in a light trill.

“If I could be human again, would you come to collect my shattered dream?” Her balance faltered for a second. I laughed at her feigned urgency. My eyes now followed a man on the streets who found a small coin. He let it glimmer in the low light of the morning.

“Would you want to be human?” She turned and began to step over toward me.

“If I could be human, I’d frolic in the sun. I’d wake up without a single worry. I’d play with all the energy I have. I wouldn’t be able to fly, but I’ll try.” She laughed as she skipped a step, and landed on the ledge in front of me. The man walked beyond my view.  Lottie spun on the spot, allowing her hair to brush my face. I leaned back and smiled. Her hair smelt of sticks.

“If I could be human, I’d eat. I’d sleep, I’d drink water. I’d never worry about having all of this information in my head. I’d learn, slowly.” Her voice began to simmer. It strained me to hear. The wind muffled her words.

“If I could be human, I might live a better life. I might have a family. I might have a place to call home.” She stopped at the end of the roof. Her foot saddled off of the ledge. She jumped, then appeared shortly after as she floated towards me. She held her hand out to me as her hair blew into her back, wrapping around her. The glow behind her was parted by her body. Her face was in darkness. I stretched my hand out and let her cheek rest on my palm.

“But this is my home now,” she said under her breath.

“Wherever you are, wherever you choose to go, I’ll be there. Whatever you do, whatever you choose to do, I’ll be there. And if you die I’ll die.” Her pulse lightened. I counted each beat. A swirl of wind would wrap around my arm. A single beat. Her hair would flutter. Two beats. A window would light up. Three beats. Before I could get to four, she let go of my hand.

“I’m a divine,” I said, “I can’t die. I won’t die. The same goes for you.” Her eyes lowered, following something I couldn’t see.

“I know. But if you wanted I could die. You could disperse me into the air. All you have to do is think.” She smiled, looked up and tucked her arms behind her hair. She was swaying slightly.

“But unfortunately I’m a divine who talks. That’s all I can ever do,” I said with a smile.

“And collect shattered dreams.” The wind broke as a flock of birds rushed on by. They sung in the atmosphere. The streets began to fill. Before I could watch them, Lottie rushed onto my body. Her head listened to my chest.

“No matter what you say, you have the beat of a human,” her voice carried to my ears in strides. It sung within my mind.

“What does it sound like?”

“A dream.” Her warmth exuded my body. Her pulse came again. A car stopped at the lights. Four beats. A man in a suit ran for a bus. Five beats. The woman at the window closed her curtains. Six beats.

“We’ve derailed from our original topic.” She looked up at me, her face faceless. I reached my hand over, and held it on her head. I rubbed slowly, her hair melding with my skin.

“And I’m sure you’ll say that’s just like being human.” I smiled for her. She nestled herself away from my hand. Though I couldn’t help but pet her anyway. Eventually she gave in. A bird perched itself on the ledge. Seven beats. A horn in the distance. Eight beats. The break of wind from an airplane. Nine beats.

“I’m not sure I can remember why I brought you over when I did. Maybe I didn’t have a reason. But if I told you that, you’d be mad.” I let out a breath and lowered my voice. Ten beats.

“I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad I brought you to this world. I enjoy your company. I’d be lonely without you now.” She didn’t say a word. Our warmth melded into the air. We stayed like that for as long as we could. And so on that day we came to know each other a little better.