Humming softly, I cocked my head and looked at my work critically. There was still room for improvement. Much room. The ringing of the doorbell startled me from my thoughts. Absently, I pressed the automatic door opener. I heard the sound of footsteps, which, surprisingly, did not come in the direction of the art space. I got up with a frown and walked down the hall. I paused by the living room door. My best friend was standing in front of the sideboard and had his eyes fixed on a picture of the two of us from a few years ago. I stepped quietly closer and stood next to him. My finger moved as light as a feather over the silver-gray frame. The memory of that moment was always present in my mind. The picture immortalized it. Forever.
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I heard movement next to me and turned to the curly-headed one. His emerald green eyes glared at me, smiling. The dimples remained to this day. The corners of my mouth rose against my will. Silence. Peaceful silence. Until his deep voice rang out and gave me goose bumps. "What's up, mate?" I rolled my eyes. "The usual." Grinning, he turned around. "Not everyone can have such an exciting life as I do," he called over his shoulder. He sat lazily on the sofa. I looked at him with my arms crossed. He winked at me. Butterflies. That was new. I dropped down next to him. Shoulder to shoulder. Leg to leg. Silence. Pleasant silence. And butterflies.
