The Sparks

CH. III

(A/N: a rather short and sweet chapter, hope you enjoy it anyway.)

"Fix your eyes on perfection and you make almost everything speed towards it." – William Ellery Channing

Song: The bleachers- I wanna get better

Elliot Stone did not only have an idea, an idea that seemed bigger than his own existence, itching within him. But now he had a start to this huge idea. He had never felt so excited about anything in his life. The morning after the first spark he was extremely happy. He was almost skipping his way down the coffee shop. He greeted everyone, instead of looking at the ground or –if you were lucky, with a small nod. "Good morning!" He greeted the usual line, getting weird looks in the process from people who knew him usually as a grumpy and quiet man. He looked at them and saw their sparks, the little ones, ones that didn't matter to him. But still, they were there.

And Elliot couldn't stop grinning. How could he? He made a start of something big. Of something so perfect. How could someone not be happy? It felt like the world had stopped turning and everything turned into a happy place. He could not believe not everybody was happy, but then he realized nobody cared.

When big events happen to an individual the world seems as if it stands still. As if it stops turning, as if time stopped existing. But to the rest of the world this big event has not happened thus the world did not stop turning for them. Elliot realized that, not letting it kill his happiness.

After he had left Belle on her couch he had pondered what to do with her. He had to make sure she did not remember, he had to make sure she had fully lost her spark. He decided to do that before catching his second spark just to be sure.

***

Elliot had been to following Belle and her friend for two hours now. Finally the woman stepped inside a café to get a drink. The café had light yellow walls, at some spots the paint started to chip. At the counter here was a bored server with bright red lipstick inspecting her nails. On the walls hung some art, mostly paintings of nature. The rest of the café was filled with booths. He followed the women and sat in the booth behind them, to hear the conversation but to not been seen. That would be awkward. And order his usual black coffee, it was 12:30 after all.

They talked for a few hours about useless subjects. Mostly about him and how he 'broke her heart'. Elliot thought that after 18 hours she would be over him. Elliot obviously thought wrong. He figured that if he did not care about her, she would not care about him. Compassion and empathy was obviously not his strong suit.

The two women finally started talking the subject he came for.
"Hey Belle have you finished the book yet?" Belle's friend asked. "No," Belle stated," I don't read anymore", like it was the most common thing in the whole wide world. There was a silence. Elliot figured the other woman's face would be shocked, stunned. "You don't read anymore," the friend stated, surprised. "But... you love reading!" Belle signed, as if someone had asked her that question already (the possibility was huge since the woman loved reading and didn't talk about anything else.) "Loved reading. I like watching series more now, books are kind of boring anyways."

And Elliot knew that his work was done.

***

Catching his second spark was harder then he had thought. After all, he had met his first spark in a bar on the same day has the idea. It had been weeks; he had met some people with a medium spark. One that wasn't as little as ones he normally saw but one that wasn't enough. He had let them go, it wasn't right. This idea had to be perfect, of course. He had looked everywhere without really knowing what to look for. He did not know what he wanted his second spark to be, what it was supposed to be. He even got frustrated at one point but never once thought of giving up.

On Friday after work, 2 weeks and 1 day after the catching of the first spark, a co-worker invited Elliot to an art gallery. To seem semi-social Elliot had reluctantly said yes. And there he was, in the middle of his co-worker who he did not care about and strangers he cared even less about. He decided to look at the art. It was a small gallery; the walls were all white with a grey, concrete floor. There was some white led light and some electronic pop/indie music. Most of the art was modern art, it wasn't anything special but it was amusing. One installation caught his eye. It was a mix of photographs and painting. Most of the subjects were extreme: screaming children, guns; mostly deadly subjects. But for some reason he was drawn to it. "And? What do you think about it?" A voice awoke him from his thoughts and made him look right. Next to him stood a woman. She was Asian, with dark hair and dark eyes. She was little and curvy and looked at him with a questioning look. "I like it," he answered her," it are extreme subjects which means the artist takes risks and thinks about the world more than mundane people do. I like that." She nodded with a small smile. "Thank you," she said. Now it was his turn to look questioning at her. "Alice," she introduced herself," Alice Friggs." And walked away. And left Elliot standing there intrigued and confused. He looked at the art once again and saw the title of the installation; "what it has come to" by Alice Friggs. He looked at her; she was talking to someone else. And a purple spark started to shine above her head. He held his breath for a little while. And then walked up to her with a small smile.