The eternality in our ephemerality

Chapter 25. I am definitely, irrefutably and undeniably not wrong.

Finally, I started helping her by swiftly moving my arms, amending my mistake by refilling cups with water, filling the bowls with French fries, assuring all the decorations were drunk-proof and fixing all the little details she, and most, had neglected.

The beat drummed with an excessive accuracy, my heart thumped in equal to the external pound as I toured her place and ensured no harm was done...yet.

However, a harm had already been bestowed on Jane's eyesight: she was profoundly injured by the state of my hair and the indifference I had given to my outfit. She, with an ironed hand, pulled me by the blouse and directed me to her room. With slight reluctance, I accepted her outfit decisions, a yellow top and high-waisted jeans, and speedily brushed my hair. However I was denied freedom until she had ensured I looked more than acceptable. I thought I knew how to dress, i was wrong.

She took my face as a canvas and decorated to her liking, with the only warning that she, and Mary, would not paint me as Annabelle. In order to ensure their promise would be kept: I forced a pinkiepromise.

As my faith had expected, their end result was beyond my pleasing and their hands were delighted with pride: the blouse became a perfect ornament to my skin tone, the jeans accentuated by lenient waste and my hair, once burning in the flames of emaciated, it now persisted in a flagrant silk and rested lightly on my bare shoulders. Such was the magnificence of her work that it moved and danced in parallel to the beat and with a breeze of floral perfume, I was ready to be shown off by the efficiency of my friends.

Without much recognition, we thrusted ourselves into the beat and the songs we knew by heart: each beat granting a different pose or move that, without such opportunity openings, they would have never seen the eye of anyone except the reflection of the mirror. A moment that opened as if it were a chocolate wrapped rose; second by second its petals opened in a bliss of pure joy and growing strength out of the blushed cheeks that tilted upwards in the hope we might someday reach and caress a sweet star laying up in the air; but for the meantime, the light emended by the stars was echoed by the savoury dimmed vintage lights and a bonfire that like fireflies allowed a flicker of light to swim upwards and heat our brightly youthful hearts.

Without much thought, I realised how in a minuscule second everything was perfect.

My heart's melodic imprisonment was released, and that one minuscule unnoticeable change made every puzzle fit into place;

Its strange, having such grand possessions,

And I mean the grandness of the detail

Of feeling too much

Of thinking too much

Of loving too much

For my greatest possessions are also my unwilling ruin.

The blinking eye soon resumed its swooshing again. Painted across my lips my eternal smile remained and despite my stillness in the rushed, invigorating and ephemeral crowd, everything was uncertain but so daringly lovely.

Couples dancing, friends laughing, everything with ease and not a single moment of delay in each of the glistening lips my eyes seemed to notice: not one face was unnoticed without a smile.

Lights hanging above like specks of stardust, the sky being painted in waves of   yellow, blue, violet, lavender.... gold.

As if it were a perfect carnival painting eternally frozen in time and I was standing still, motionless, watching it and admiring its hidden splendour in each brush strike.

Time kept passing by but the needles of a spinning clock were no longer heard.

The thumping of my friend's shoes blended like a bee buzzing.