third person dreams. bleh.
“there’s no such thing as ‘always’, you know.” she turns to face him as he stares out over the water. they sit on the bank, where the rushes and willows whisper quiet comfort and murmur things no human ever says. it is a cool, autumn day; crisp, like a dry leaf. “you say that like it means something.” he replies quietly, without inflection, the monotone of it little more than audible over the running waters.
“does it?” she sighs, “i cannot tell what meaning is anymore.” he shifts and remains silent. “every time i think there is meaning, i am wrong, and every time i am convinced there is no meaning, someone is walking away for my blindness to it.” she draws symbols in the damp, loose soil of the riverbank and let the sounds of the area punctuate the sentence.
“blindness?” he asks, his face turning slightly to see her expression. “yes, i think so,” she replies, “but i am not deaf… not that it seems to matter.” he leans forward and adds to the line of symbols in the mud, “perhaps the issue is not your blindness, but their muteness.”
“they are always mute,” she whispers, “but their actions say things i cannot respond to, and it hurts.” he nods, “you can’t reply to something that is not said.” she sighs, “you can, but it never does any good.”
“it is the same.” he brushes his hands upon his pants and wraps his arms around his knees, pulling up and close, returning his attention to the far shore. “i tell them i will always be here,” she murmurs, “but what does that matter if they decide to go away?”
“it would only matter if they ever thought about returning,” he replies, “and, of course, that wouldn’t matter until they did so, would it?” she shakes her head slowly, “no, i don’t suppose it would.” he stands and looks down to her, “if you know that, why do you bother?”
“because no matter how many times i say it, i can’t believe it.” she whispers. “say what? believe what?” he asks. she shivers lightly and reaches to pull her sweater closer, “that there’s no such thing as always.” he nods, “but you say it like it has meaning.” she looks up through a veil of tears, “i’m trying.”
he ponders it for a moment, then shrugs, “it does not seem to matter to anyone but you and me,” turning away, he pauses briefly, “and you know that i am thankful to know when i return, you will be here.” she shrugs lightly, “i said i would be.”
“yes, and i’m telling you i notice, i remember, and i believe you.” he reaches down to lightly caress her cheek, and wipes away the tear. she mutters, “thank you for that, but surely you know why it does not help.” he nods understanding, “it is pesky, being the man who doesn’t exist, but i do the best i can.”
she nods, once, and as she turns her eyes back to the far shore the symbols on the riverbank fade.