02-24-2009, 08:06 PM
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| http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c13/v ... ablebg.jpg);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:top;"> Mew Sadira Word count: 395 He was strange, this one. They meet in a place which is heavy with the message of death; a grave subject - and one that tied everyone together. And then, for no reason, he was sharing intimate information with her, as if they were on a level of deep trust, although they were strangers to one another still. Mew didn't find it uncomfortable, in fact his confession calmed her, took some of her awkwardness away. She knew, now, that he had been in a similar position, and recently, and that he - too - had acted and done things he did not understand because of it. This image of herself, aside from the difference in eye-color and gender, spoke of first-hand recent experience with grief - and instantly some amount of trust was given him. Their subject was awkward, touchy, and though some of her tenseness had been removed by his words, and she no longer felt as if she was caught at doing something odd, she still did not want to overstep the social rules and limits she was bound by. By asking him of his sister she risked that - as people were different, and she did not know how he was. Instead, she confessed her reasons for being here - it was only fair, after his revealing. These are my children. It was seldom she spoke about it aloud, and she found it difficult. Not in the sense of controlling her feelings so they did not overtake her, but because she didn't seem to be able to find the words. The right ones, the fitting ones. They died as they were born, late last spring. They were similar in distance from their losses, on the timeline. It did not mean their losses were the same, and though Mew still suffered with the guilt every day, she did not know any circumstances around the death of his sister. My mother dug these small graves and put them here - apparently she felt it was fitting. Although, I don't know what I would have done anyway, so I guess it's very fine. Now I have a place to visit. Green eyes studied him, face open and earnest. He was her friend already, to her, just now. Another day he might not be, but today they shared this grave subject, and he was her friend. |