She’s sitting right next to you, and you’re sitting right next to her.
You’re sitting next to each other on the park bench. The park resides in the middle of a busy city. Despite the never ending march of whatever it is from the outside, the sky seems to be as blue as the minutes before this moment, as blue as an hour before this moment, as blue as ever. This goes on for a while.
You’re sitting next to each other on the park bench. Neither of you are exactly trying to separate from one another, like the other side of the country, neither there is a border between the two countries, neither is there a wall that separate between the countries. You look over the other side of the land and see if there’s any more land or any less land between yours and the other side. You are a border guard and you look for a change between the the border, the border line for which you’re now looking for while also looking for the change between the land in the first place. This is borderline psychotic.
The wind blows softly, as if the whole world is one home under one blue roof. Her hands touch gently on the edge. She has the hands of a woman whom spent a great deal of time proving her worth in the line of work few women would consider. As such the scars that are hard to miss, are hard to miss. Her knuckles, a scary thoughts for anyone who dare challenges her. Her fingers, the rivers. Her fingers, longingly blue. Your mind ponders.
Once upon a time there was the mountain, and there was the land. The mountain loved the land so much, its river nurtures the land. The land in turn gives a home for the creatures to live. The mountain, too, grew a forest alongside with the lands. Storm came, rains drops. Water fell then like waterfall. No one knew the act of love could be so violent. Water fell, met the trees. The trees greeted them, gave them company, gave them shelter for a short while, guided them back to the river. The water arrived at the land. Once upon a time there was the mountain, and there was the land. This went on for a long time.
Your mind ponders. Your mind, a river. You are a border guard, all you’re looking at is her hand.
You’re sitting next to each other on the park bench. And both of you haven’t been saying anything for a while now. You’re trying to choke down all the words that were meant to be said. All that words that stuck inside, between the silence and the future. You look at her hand. Then her eye, trying to meet gaze. She is turning away. You look at her hand and see that the land is trembling. You are trying not to tell her you love her. But you love her. You are trying to tell her you love her. But you can’t. You’re sitting next to each other on the park bench. She turns around trying to tell you something. Her hand raises, tries to grab your shoulder. You turns your gaze up trying to tell her something, you were trying to reach out to her. You don’t know what you are doing. You reach out to her and your hands meet in between. She reaches out to you and your gaze meet in between. You feel like your heart taking root in your body, like a prayer for which no words exist, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.
You’re sitting next to each other on the park bench. This has been going on for a while.