Playing the Melody
I watch her put on a brave smile before stepping on stage, like she always does. I sometimes feel guilty for catching her without one, her only defence against the multitude of judging gazes. She would then notice me noticing her, drop her guard and be flustered for a half-second, before stretching her face in an impressive display of willpower. She puts so much effort into needlessly covering herself up for my sake, and it breaks my heart that I cant tell her to stop because I really couldnt care less how she looks. But if she were to tell me how she feels, shed have my full attention because its an awful lot of trouble to try to interpret all of her actions. She sometimes has me staring into space, trying to fit what I know of her together and sighing in exasperation when I realize that my jigsaw puzzle is missing so many pieces.
Paradise. Thats where she said she wanted to live when she was little. I wonder if she knew what she was saying. While a utopi