here lies a coward [berry+maria]

Her words make me yearn to hug her again. To hold this wonderful person who I somehow felt this closeness to even though we'd just met. We were very different, her and I, I doubt we even had the same problems but maybe, just maybe, we were the same too. "Thank you, Maria." I love the way her name rolls off my tongue. It feels like I'm calling to a close friend whom I've known for years. It feels sweet. I bend my head slightly, trying to express gratitude without actually speaking because it was getting harder the more I actually realized there was a pretty girl sitting in my house. "T-take a seat will you?" I gesture to the alabaster couch before rushing to the kitchen. "I'll be right out!" 

I don't really have much tea. More of a coffee person myself, I enjoyed the aroma of a freshly brewed cup of jasmine more than the taste. But it was far too late for coffee now because if we drank it this late we'd never get to sleep. Or at least, that's what I think my mother told me. She said that tea was relaxing, good for your nerves and to relax. The way my heart was pounding right now that is most definitely what I needed. 

The kettle rattles as I set it upon the stove, more so because of my shaking hand than any fault with the appliance itself. Leaving the water to boil I take a seat across from Maria, not daring to get too close and to scare her or something like that. "I'm sorry you're missing the ball- that really is my fault." I cover my face with my hands, looking at her through the spaces between my fingers. She was still very pretty.

My pictures are strung up all over the house. Hanging off of clothespins because I've always likes the look, even when they're done being exposed. There's the skyline overlooking the city that one time I was able to ride a hover craft, I'd exposed that one longer than necessary so that the faint glow of the sun upon the horizon flared into the clouds and it all looked so wonderful and calm. There's the picture of the lone dancer I'd seen spinning in the streets late one night when I could not sleep. Her red dress flares about her, pale skin giving her a ghostly appearance against the stark, navy. I had asked her if she needed help, but she ignored me, dancing along down the streets and I took a picture because she looked so free. I have many, many pictures of the city-scape but my favorites are of the world around me. The emerald trees that I have walked past, flash off because I could startle the mutts roaming free in the forest. I even have a picture of a macromantula web somewhere, dew glistening off of it's very strings. (Quite luckily it was dead a few feet off but I never included that into the photo). 

She asks about the ocean and I can't help but smile. "It's- it's salty. You can taste it in the air and even smell it. The water looks so clear and blue but when you're wading into it there's suddenly a million things around you and it's cold but that doesn't even matter because everything is so alive." I'm smiling like an idiot before I realize that I hadn't even stuttered once when I was talking and the smile widens to the point that my eyes crinkle and I can barely see. I've never spoken to anyone about my photos, I never realized how much I love it. "Oh uh- the tea is done!" I rush and pour two cups before handing her one and scalding my tongue on the other. "S-sorry for rambling." I manage while sucking my burnt lip.