Icarus and The Magpie (Short Story)

(2) Show me The World.

Iris was many things, but crazy, wasn't one of them. She had pinched herself, this wasn't a dream. But the impossibility of it all struck her as just that. "You're real." She muttered. Unmoving. Unshakeable. Her feet were so firmly planted where she stood, they could have grown roots.

"So it seems." He whispered, tilting his head. Looking her squarely in the eyes. Hers, as deep as the earth, his, impossible. Watercolor blends made breathing.

"I take this as you're clocking out?" Grayson spoke up. Breaking whatever spell was held in their wordless exchange.

Iris shook her head. "Yes. I'll just grab- stay here." She told him, and ran to collect her things. Grayson followed her.

"Should I be worried?" The manager joined them.

"I can get rid of him for you and you can go out the back." Grayson grabbed her arm. "Seriously."

"No- no- I know him, he's an... old friend of mine." She lied. How else would she explain he was dreamt and not real. That he was somehow a visible, imaginary, creation. Iris didn't know what to say. So she said nothing else.

"I think it goes without saying..." Grayson, looked more unconvinced than bewildered. Both of which he was. "Be careful Iris."

"I am." I've lost it entirely. "I don't need anyone else worried about me. Seriously."

Magpie had waited. He stood there like a lonely, imagined lighthouse on the banks of a very real sea. The impossibility of it all never phasing him, he was extraordinary and she knew it. He, didn't seem to. He finicked with the front tails of his dreamt button up that clung to his chest and shoulders at the highest points. His hair pressed flat like melted chocolate on his forehead and cheeks. "Come with me." She reached, he took her hand without question and as if struck by lightning, her heart frantically slammed against her chest. Warm. The skin of his palm was warm. Soft, and alive. He's alive. Alive. Alive. It wasn't cold like she remembered. This Magpie, was real and he had found her.

The door chimed as the two stepped out into the rain. She didn't have a car, and she never bothered with an umbrella. The water wasn't the enemy. Ego was. She had barely any of that left. He gasped. Clutching her hand tighter as they swiftly cut across the road and made their way towards her apartment building. "Are you okay?"

He exhaled. "I thought I'd fall away."

"Fall away?" She questioned, tugging him forward.

"Into the rain." His voice was deep, and comforting. There was a worn-ness to him. Like an old pair of shoes tread about one too many times. Or a coat, full of patches but worth unimaginable sums. Everything about him was as she remembered, the constellations of freckles on his cheeks. She knew how far they went. His hands, with long fingers and a boyish charm. His breath, and how well paced it was. How it gapped like waves tugging at the shores of her world. And those eyes. A universe all their own.

The walk was painful. Iris glanced his way at every chance- He's still there -and he glanced back. Lingering long enough to say "I'm here." and "It's okay." Its okay. She felt sad, she had called him Magpie for so long and had never once, asked if he had a name for himself. So she asked. "Do you... do you have a name?" They stood at a streetlight, waiting for the change-over. Iris wasn't sure how he had gotten there, but she believed in the feeling he gave her and for once. She felt her shoulders relax. Something they hadn't done in a long time. She was shaking off her dust.

He didn't answer her until they had begun walking again. "I do." He squeezed her hand tighter. She felt the pressure on her fingers and he again, clawed away at the thoughts that tried to disprove his existence. "I do but I don't remember."