Status: In motion.
The Road You Can Take
then what am i left with?
Her chin was settled on her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her eyes were wide, curious, as she waited patiently for the minutes to tick by. It was the last sunrise of July, and she had pulled him out of bed at five this morning to secure her favorite spot on the beach. He had tried to assure her that no one else was crazy and would be up this early, but she was relentless.
She hadn’t brought a blanket, or even a hot thermos of coffee. “You don’t need those things to enjoy a sunrise,” she had said, completely ignoring the irritation in his tone as he wondered where the caffeine was.
She was set on watching the sunrise, but he was torn over looking at her or the ocean. He switched back and forth periodically – taking in the calm waves of the early morning, then the way her bangs fell across her forehead. If she ever noticed his stare, she didn’t say anything. She continued to stare intently at the sky, watching in complete fascination as the reds and oranges and violets started to splatter across the sky.
“Scattering,” It was the only word she’d said since he asked about the coffee, and he didn’t know what she was talking about, but he had an idea. “It’s what the light does, to make the sky blue. Really, it’s just black, like the rest of space, but light scatters. We learned about it once in physics.”
Physics – she related everything to physics. When they were in the car, she was talking about momentum. When they were outside, she was talking about the speed of light. Physics and candy – everything in the world was relatable to physics, and everyone in the world was related to candy.
He didn’t say anything. He kept his words to himself – he always ruined moments like this when he responded. He didn’t want to ruin it – these memories were of her, and only her. Her words, her thoughts, her conclusions.
The sun rose in a matter of minutes, but she didn’t move. She sat there, completely still, just staring. He wanted to hold her. He always wanted to hold her, when it was just them. He wanted to be the guy at the end of the book, who reached out and connected. Who made the move, who sealed the deal, who had enough balls to say how he felt.
But he didn’t. Because he wasn’t that guy. He wanted to be, but he wasn’t. Everyone always thought that he was that guy – full of spontaneity and life, but it was a façade. He was Reese’s Pieces – a strange combination, but right. Colorful, but solid; never to be appreciated wholly – all parts had to be collected first.
And she was a Lemonhead – right off the bat, there was something strange, not quite right about her. She was a weird color, a weird shape, never quite the right shade of yellow. But then she started to grow on you – an acquired taste.
When you’re at the candy store, you don’t put Lemonheads and Reese’s Pieces in the same bag. Sour goes with sour, and sweet goes with sweet. She went with Hot Tamales, Dots, and the occasional Fun Dip. He went with Kit Kats, truffles, and caramel. They didn’t mix.
She hadn’t brought a blanket, or even a hot thermos of coffee. “You don’t need those things to enjoy a sunrise,” she had said, completely ignoring the irritation in his tone as he wondered where the caffeine was.
She was set on watching the sunrise, but he was torn over looking at her or the ocean. He switched back and forth periodically – taking in the calm waves of the early morning, then the way her bangs fell across her forehead. If she ever noticed his stare, she didn’t say anything. She continued to stare intently at the sky, watching in complete fascination as the reds and oranges and violets started to splatter across the sky.
“Scattering,” It was the only word she’d said since he asked about the coffee, and he didn’t know what she was talking about, but he had an idea. “It’s what the light does, to make the sky blue. Really, it’s just black, like the rest of space, but light scatters. We learned about it once in physics.”
Physics – she related everything to physics. When they were in the car, she was talking about momentum. When they were outside, she was talking about the speed of light. Physics and candy – everything in the world was relatable to physics, and everyone in the world was related to candy.
He didn’t say anything. He kept his words to himself – he always ruined moments like this when he responded. He didn’t want to ruin it – these memories were of her, and only her. Her words, her thoughts, her conclusions.
The sun rose in a matter of minutes, but she didn’t move. She sat there, completely still, just staring. He wanted to hold her. He always wanted to hold her, when it was just them. He wanted to be the guy at the end of the book, who reached out and connected. Who made the move, who sealed the deal, who had enough balls to say how he felt.
But he didn’t. Because he wasn’t that guy. He wanted to be, but he wasn’t. Everyone always thought that he was that guy – full of spontaneity and life, but it was a façade. He was Reese’s Pieces – a strange combination, but right. Colorful, but solid; never to be appreciated wholly – all parts had to be collected first.
And she was a Lemonhead – right off the bat, there was something strange, not quite right about her. She was a weird color, a weird shape, never quite the right shade of yellow. But then she started to grow on you – an acquired taste.
When you’re at the candy store, you don’t put Lemonheads and Reese’s Pieces in the same bag. Sour goes with sour, and sweet goes with sweet. She went with Hot Tamales, Dots, and the occasional Fun Dip. He went with Kit Kats, truffles, and caramel. They didn’t mix.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is my new love; it most likely won't be updated much until June, when I return home and plan to do nothing this summer but read books and write.