In Love With Greensleeves✔️

Chapter Two: Courtyard Imagines

How do you know when you have truly found yourself? Is it when you're able to stand your own reflection? Is it when you hold your chest a little higher into the sky? Or is it all just one of the many mirages in life? I for one haven't found myself. Yes, I claim music as my persona, my ego, but it's not me. I don't know who Michael Joseph Jackson is. Does anyone know who they truly are?

The October air fairs well with Zora. Effortless waves of chestnut frames her face and dances along the wind. Her emerald eyes on high alert of another one of my wandering creatures. Though she has long held her fear of my Boa, Muscles by now, she is still crossing her hands over her chest in means of protection. She has seemingly found closure in avoidance. Eking at the mere sight of him or another giraffe or a caged lion. She has even slipped away a few times, pretending to be interested in a nearby pond full of aging amphibians and fishes. I have had quite a laugh in the past ten minutes.

I've also noticed as we wander through Hayvenhurst, that in the mist of her paranoia, Zora is awfully quiet. That says a lot. She's never really ever quiet. With having such a verbal career as an News Anchor, she is known for never being at a lost for words. When she has seemingly lost her vocabulary, it can only mean she has something deep on her mind. I guess I have to shake it out of her.

The wind is still tussling with her hair, throwing her waves around carelessly as we approach the courtyard of Hayvenhurst. Such a beautiful courtyard, nothing too elaborate. Lily's in the spring, turf grass and perennials in the fall. Rarely is the courtyard painted with floral during the winter, but it's still just as mesmerizing. A bench sits lonely on the far end of the courtyard. Even still the bench accents the simplicity of the courtyard wonderfully. You're able to look out into Hayvenhurst and maybe even see a couple of our giraffes far in the distance. It's a wonderful place to sit and ponder and even more wonderful to talk with your mutely girlfriend.

"You're quiet, why?" I ask, breaking whatever silence we have drawn out.

She squints her eyes at the lowering sun, not even indicating a possible answer. Evening is threatening and I know Zora will have to return to her world soon. Maybe this could be her reasoning for falling silent? Should this be her reasoning, then I understand completely. I hate when she leaves. My inherent loneliness always returns as soon as she steps into her car. She's the only person that I can personally have as my piece of normality. She is my only piece of the outside world, it's a lovely piece to have.

Minutes past and she still hasn't broken her seal. Even as we sit on the cold bars of the bench, she still remains silent. She's killing me. I want to know what's going on in her brain. What is she thinking? I sometimes feel disconnected when I can't understand another person. Being that I rarely venture out into the world beyond my bedroom or the studio, I have unfortunately learned little to nothing about communicating properly with another human being besides my own family members. Even after nearly a year of dating Zora, I still find myself disconnected.

What a terrible word.

"You're worried, don't be" She finally answers, allowing our eyes to finally meet.

I sigh mentally in relief, ecstatic that she has finally broken the seal. A smile spreads my lips unwillingly, I feel absolutely foolish for over thinking. Being too analytic of her body language. I'm still learning the trade of communication whether it be verbal or physical. I'm just a working progress.

"What are you afraid of Michael?" She asks, her tone serious and her eyes tearing away from mine.

I fidget with my nails. This is the part of our relationship that I do tend to avoid. I am a laconic man, I say very little. I've always been this way. Mainly because I was taught that my words are paltry, meaningless. Why speak about my intimate feelings when no one cares to understand. Sure Zora has asked about my fears, but it doesn't mean she cares. I'm not callous, I'm cautious.