„i Forgive You For Stealing

The Truest Tales Require Time And Familiarity To Become What They Are.

You May Tell A Tale That Takes Up Residence In Someone's Soul

The Funeral Is A Quiet One, Despite The Number Of Mourners Present. There Are No Sobs Or Flailing Handkerchiefs. There Is A Smattering Of Color Amongst The Sea Of Traditional Black. Even The Light Rain Cannot Push It Down Into The Realms Of Despair. It Rests Instead In A Space Of Thoughtful Melancholy.

I Like To Call It Nighttime Brain: The Way Your Mind Seems To Function On A Different Frequency Than It Does During Daylight Hours - Which Can Be Good Or Bad But Also Can Lead To Unexpected Epiphanies Or Experiences That Wouldn't Be The Same At Any Other Time Of Day.

The Silence That Falls Between Them Is A Comfortable One. He Longs To Reach Over And Touch Her, But He Resists, Fearful Of Destroying The Delicate Camaraderie They Are Building. He Steals Glances Instead, Watching The Way The Light Falls Over Her Skin. Several Times He Catches Her Regarding Him In A Similar Manner, And The Moments When She Holds His Eyes With Hers Are Sublime.