Libraries are nice quiet places, places without judgmental people around, places devoid of drama, places where even Dani finds himself entertained (but only usually). Reading is wonderful, too, so here I sit, at a table with a charming science fiction novel (The Martian Chronicles, it's called) in my thin-fingered, narrow-wristed hands. There was a smell of Time in the air tonight, I read silently to myself. He smiled and turned the fancy in his mind. There was a thought. What did time smell like? Like dust and clocks and people. And if you wondered what Time sounded like it sounded like water running in a dark cave and voices crying and dirt dropping down upon hollow box lids, and rain—
“Kitty! Dude, c’mon! We just got here, and you immediately head to the library in your off time? Let’s go explore or something!”
For the umpteenth time Daniel tries to pry me away from the library and from my book, for the umpteenth time I remind him what happened the last time he wanted to explore, and he shuts up. (He got hit by a car. A tragic story.)
Dani, solid and visible to my eyes but unable to be seen or heard by anyone unless I assist him, is tall and slightly muscled, unlike myself, with tan skin, dark hair that sticks up all over the place, the brightest of smiles and wide eyes so green the word “green” can’t even describe them. I, on the other hand, am tiny and petite and pale like paper with skinny arms and skinny legs, bony hips and delicate fingers with perfectly-manicured nails, a small upturned nose splattered with dark freckles, and overall doll-like features. My smile is shy and never wide enough to show the sharp incisors in my mouth, and while his eyes are green, mine are bright electric blue. He calls me Kitty for my “fangs” and “claws” and “smallness” and “ninja-like movements” and “quietness” and “general cuteness,” according to him. I just call him Dani.
“Well, so? I’m here now, aren’t I?” he argues in his generally-unknown-to-himself insensitive way, snatching my book from my hands, giving me a ghostly kiss on my head, and zipping off with inhuman speed only to reappear twenty feet away or so. He wants me to chase him, I think, but I just rest my elbow on the table and one palm on my cheek, muttering a sad, “Yes, you are. But I liked you better when you were breathing.”
posted 10 months ago. ( permalink )