ALONE | where our hearts sink into the earth.
― I don't want to be alone anymore.
The world had not been kind to us, the boy and the girl, and the souls within.
Made to suffer, minds that were created for this world, they do not sink; they swim.
but...
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TESS
"You know, there's not much that a pretty sunset can't fix."
A single handful of walnuts shook in my brother's hand before being swept away by his mouth. He used to hate walnuts, used to roll his tongue in disgust over the earthy taste they held, but now, he chewed at them slowly. He savored the taste, indulging in them, feeding off of them. How times had changed in the passing lives. In his past life, he had hated them. Now, in the new life he existed in, he loved them. Though, that love didn't come with much of a choice. The walnuts, the aroma of the earth, and the nutty roll of the after taste was all we had at the end of the day.
His words were mumbled under the crunch that lived under his the clench of his jaw, but I still understood every syllable. I grinned at the boy, nodding along with him. "Can't fix the world, but it sure can fix my mood. The only thing that would make this better is if I had a camera."
My legs dangled off the edge of a rooftop, boots clanking together as they swung. The building we sat on top of was an old diner, a mom and pop pit stop diner. Vint's Family Restaurant. It sat in the midst of Georgia, in between slabs of forest hills. We were lucky to even come across it, an easy miss between the thick wooden walls of the country. It was an odd place for a restaurant, but then again, we had come across stranger things within the new world.
Another day was coming to an end, another night fading in to take its way from the light. Orange fluttered through the sky, a muggy summer evening filling our veins with white heat as we watched the sunburnt hues splatter against the crimson tides and violets sweeping in. I had loved watching sunsets for as long as I could recall back, but now, watching it with my brother every night, it made the act of surviving a little more special. There was always something to look forward to, even if we were drowning. By evening, we pushed to the surface just to watch, even if we were sure to sink afterwards.
"That's what sunsets are for." Trevor smiled, the soft orange hour reflecting back along his skin. "To fix your mood. They let you know a new day is coming, and that you get another chance. Much more justice there than what a picture could give you."
Trevor was a poet. My brother, the poet. He may not have had his own anthology of words, but the anthology lived on in my mind. I recited his words often, remembering how he viewed things, how he spoke of the simplest of things like sunsets or rain, of second chances and beliefs. His soft-spoken way of communicating with others, most of all myself, was one of the many qualities I was jealous of. He had a way with words, knew how to explain things without overcomplicating it. Even in the world we lived in, raw in the moment, he knew how to make things better.
