Wednesday, September 22, 2010

The Girl Who Grinned at the Sky

I'd just finished a particularly frustrating session of one class, and was trudging along to my least favorite and most dreaded class. No end was in sight, and the wind whipped cruel cold inside my “good” winter coat. The bright sun mocked overhead, shining sarcastically down. I looked up to glare it down, unappreciative of how it mocked my colder loneliness.

The sun remained.

However, my attention was caught by something else. A brilliant azure accompanied the sun, and no cloud was in sight. The pure blue stood beside the sun, silent, yet almost apologetic. It seemed to say, “something will happen soon. And it's always, always for the better.”

Its silent words tugged a half smile across one of my cheeks.

I realized I was still walking, and refocused my gaze to what was in front of me. Instead of being distracted by my looming class, I saw a girl coming toward me, noticing the same thing that I just had. Except she was different. Her lips peeled back against her broad white teeth, and she grinned. At nothing, just the sheer color above us both. She also remembered she was walking, and she looked straight ahead. Our gazes met.

Her gigantic grin only grew.

It was contagious. Now not only half my face was affected. I no longer noticed the wind's chill. She introduced herself and asked if she'd met me before. I assumed it was because we were instantly joined by the bond of sky smiling, and told her no.

She had met me before, I find later. She wanted to date my next-door neighbor. I can't understand why he wasn't interested. Later she and I flew a kite in a park. I haven't seen her since.