I didn’t concern myself with trying to reach toward him. I knew that I could not. I saw him in the distance looking my way. He looked confused, angry, hurt. I would give anything to close the space between us and settle in his arms; letting the both of us consume ourselves in each other’s embrace and temporarily escape the doom around us.
I settled myself in the grass and gingerly plucked the petals of a lote. The blue, purple, and green petals floated through the air and onto the ground as I let the wind carry them away.
It was peaceful here. The only time we had together. He could never seem to understand me, but I knew that he liked to come here too. I did not know what life was like for him, but the burdens he carried were hard to bear. This I could see by looking into his eyes—the window of his very soul.
He stood by a tree watching as I plucked the petals. His eyes begged for understanding. He did not know why he came here—why I summoned him here every night. A relationship between us had blossomed without a word ever being spoken or understood. We had tried many instances to bridge the gap that was always between us, but we failed every time as it disrupted our peace.