Mondays are always a rambunctious flowing of feelings.
The good point is that is the beginning of a new week. You can take your scattered plans and put everything back into order, prioritize what’s important for you and start your long haul toward what matters.
That’s what you should focus on now Connor.
But there is her.
He doesn’t know how to explain, but there is something on her that stuck his feet, holding his will. It’s like he’s been waiting for the next landmark, the next happening, still.
So he won’t be caught off guard.
And he starts to think why he feels this way. Why should he think that something must be coming up suddenly? That he won’t be able to fix if something goes wrong? What is making him feel so powerless over something that hadn’t even happened yet?
A so fragile creature. So subtle, kind and grateful. And still, this creature had the power to overcome his will. He goes back in a moment when he‘s gazing at her thin neck. She is wearing her “nightgown”. He adores to kiss that neck. And he thinks about how it’s going to be tomorrow, when she won’t be there. And everything will start over again. And everything will be steady, waiting her.
How can something be so idyll and fraught at the same time? She says I miss you. This fills Connor’s heart and he feels it’s something that will last for an unthinkably time.
He remembers her eyes. You see, maybe now you would expect to be said that her eyes are blue like jazz or an endless sea, two quotes that would make a lot of sense and create a poetic connection to her characteristic. Maybe, they’re green like hope or a savage garden, other two worthy quotes for a young in-love lad. But, that’s not her case. They’re just brown, with no unique variation. Unless we consider what Connor sees through those average brown eyes. He sees peace, fear, kindness, fury, passion, youth, uncertainty, haze, strength, plight, bliss. He sees that nothing will stand her goals out and everything can break her in. He sees an unbearable flowing of feelings.
He goes back again to that moment, with that neck. He’s waiting. Waiting for what’s next. And, with a movement, he finds himself looking at those eyes, staring that endless flowing of feelings. Hence, he starts to flow…
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