This and That

Happiness Generator

This is painful.

The tall figure, clad in a blue raincoat, strode down the wet sidewalk. The rain poured down, doing its worst, yet the cement held firm, as it always would. Stone is not soft, but it upholds.

She pondered the landscape as she walked, taking in the similarity of the buildings, and the road that cut between them like a wall.

This is painful.

Turning a corner, she crossed that long black wall to stand at the base of a particular building, of a particularly lighter shade of grey, with a particular aura around it. The woman stared and glared and smiled, and then laughed at the mere thought. Of course its a wonderful place; it always has been.

This is painful.

She glanced up now, noticing the wont of rain on this certain corner of the city. And, could that be....the sun she saw up there in that bluest of blue skies? She smiled again and laughed, dreaming of the contents of the building. And finally, she pushed open the doors.

There they all stood, each on its own pedestal, waiting, waiting, waiting, for her. So it had been, every day, ever since the erection of the building. The woman took time at each place, examining the objects as if she had never seen anything so serenely beautiful. These objects can have no exact description, but any visitor (if there were) might say that on each pedestal sat a sort of box, full of smoke and gears and sunshine and raindrops....they were raindrops, I suppose?

This is painful.

The woman must have seen something special in each box, for she stared at them for some time, making note of every detail and color. At some she smiled; at others, laughed; and still at others, a sole tear made its lonesome path down her freckled cheek. But at last, she walked to one box, pulled a chair seemingly from nowhere, and sat down to stare. So she stared, and stared, and watched. At one point, I do believe she laughed, yet this time the laugh echoed altogether differently off the golden yellow walls. This laugh produced a sound like that of a hand slipping suddenly off a cliff. The smile widened at intervals, but the eyes....those eyes, why did they...?

This is painful.

If you looked out the windows at this point, you might've caught a fleeting glimpse of the darkness, the fear and sadness and regret. But as I said, only fleeting, I should hope.

For now, the woman sits on her hands and grins and grins, from ear to ear, her eyes almost dancing with unfettered joy. A voice calls from the distance, from outside the building, and someone walks in, pulls up a chair, sits down quietly.

Isn't it?

She hasn't stopped smiling, but her eyes have. And yet....and yet, she replies in a calm, confident voice, full of hope and sacrifice and giving, and revealing a heart that is no longer as hard and good at upholding things.

"Yes, but I choose to see only the happiness, dear friend."

Je t'aime.