“So, tell me, what is holding you back, exactly?” Dee asked her.
“Haah, nothing supposedly,” and she laughed aloud. It was still raining.
Dee was her friend. And she was there, most probably, because she had so much in mind too. That’s what the both of them had been doing lately — sit on the porch, leave the coffee cold and stare at the nothingness.
“Words don’t do justice to the world, sometimes, Dee, there are just not enough of them to paint life.”
For one, she did not know how to call him.
To her he was the sun. Oh how he burned and blinded and scorched her wildly, but ultimately, it was rather him that gave her life.
Perhaps she was the ocean, who raged and drowned and buried shipwrecks in her depths and enveloped the world – blue, still and unpredictable – all at the same time.
And what they had was like that of each day before and after darkness, when the sun kissed the edges of the ocean and it made the world stop and it was the most beautiful thing ever.
Yes, the most beautiful thing.