She moved like no one else. Every touch and look was for a reason. She felt every surface and texture as if for the first time. When she looked at something or, if you were lucky, you, she would stare at every piece as if trying to memorize if. She grazed her figures on piano keys and the spines of books and shelves with the lightest touch. She was an explorer and everything was new and fragile and beautiful. She moved through crowds slow put with purpose. She took the long way so as to see the trees and the houses from a different angle. She ignored nothing, every piece of every image she saw was important.
I wondered if she ever looked at me like that. I had never seen it happen. I often saw her observing others when they were looking away, staring down at something or facing a friend. Maybe she did that with me too. When my back was turned and I was not thinking of her she looked at my hunched shoulders and my unkempt hair and thoughtful expression. What did she think? Did she have me memorized? I wondered what image she kept of me, if any at all. What words and ideas went along with the thought of me. I imagined myself in a little corner of her brain, sitting with hundreds of other people and pictures. What part of her brain was I in? The good part, the bad part, or the neutral part that was tucked away in the darkest and least viewed corner? Being tucked away and forgot seemed worse than being in the corner filled with bad connotations. I would rather come up with a sneer than not come up at all. I was desperate to be part of her life, to be part of her. Like, she was a sun and I would give anything to be one of the planets spinning around her, being drawn in. I would risk being pulled into her fiery depths if it meant being a part of her solar system.
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YOU ARE READING
explorations
Short StoryI don't even really know myself. Read it...you figure it out.