To Perceive an Image

Forty-Five: Images of Anticipated Domestic Nights

The Image World, October 10, 2040, 11:45 PM.

"Do you know what I'm feeling right now?"

"What?" I shift my attention away from the snow angel I am proud to have created.

"Excitement," came an answer with a full stop and no further details.

Despite the pessimism that I have the misfortune of housing in my mind, I smile at his words. I don't want to bring my excitement to the surface because that would throw me into an ocean of embarrassment I couldn't swim out of. If he got a glimpse of even the slightest amount of the energy I have for what's coming, he might run away. Well, my excitement isn't for the gathering everyone and sending them back home thing. It's for the future that me and the man acting as if he has never seen snow before. The playful energy that has driven him to play with the snow for an hour cannot go ignored.

I keep my answer as dull as possible, "yeah, me too." My response earns me a chuckle from him, as usual.

"Maryanland won't freeze over if you express genuine excitement, savior."

Raising an eyebrow, I question his implausible claim. "And how would you know that, Rider?" Maryanland could bring back woolly mammoths living atop a surface covered with miles of ice tomorrow, for all we know.

He shakes his head, muttering something about my creative mind.

"Will you tell me why we're out here in," I pause, checking the weather app on his phone, "literally zero degree weather?" All the coats and hoodies in the world, or his closet, are not helping me right now. Winter's cruelty skates through each item of clothing, anyway. Flynn pauses the creation of what may be the tallest snowman I've ever seen. His then glimmering eyes turn dull, and I regret speaking.

"I'm sorry, we can go inside if you're too cold. I shouldn't have brought you out here when you're sick. Let's go-"

I hold his hand wanting to pull me inside with both of mine, preventing it from doing so. My gloved hands hold his gloved hand, smiling at the matching set he made us wear. He says it was my birthday present.

Gloves aren't something on my mind daily, but those made by Flynn with love live there every minute. Flynn reasoned, saying the delayed present happened because work kept him occupied. I can't believe he spent his free time knitting me a pair of gloves.

Shedding some tears upon getting a present was my birthday theme this year. I cried when I got the sketchbook, which sits atop Sapphire's desk as a placeholder until I find my place. To add to that tear shed, I cried like a baby in front of khalto and Malak when Flynn gave me his present. People need to give warnings before gifting handmade presents, man.

"I didn't mean it like that. I'm just wondering why we're doing this. You're not one to go outside with the purpose of enjoying whatever the weather may be. So, why now?"

He clenched his eyes when the snow attached to his hair avalanches into his eyes. I let go of his hand to grab a tissue from his coat. Handing him the napkin, he shrugs, not taking it from my stretched hand. At my questioning look, he points at my hand, then at his squinted eyes.

"Can you do it while I deliver an emotional explanation?"

A genuine bewilderment shell shocks me for a second before I let out an unattractive snort, followed by a laugh. Folding the napkin into a square, I bring it up to wipe the snow that had somehow gotten into his growing stubble. How it got there when he was standing at full height, no idea.

"Go ahead," I grant, hand raising to wipe his eyes. I giggle at how he pushes my hand away the same way Ruby does when I wipe her face. What a child.

"Since you're some sort of emotion reciprocating magician, I'll assume that you know this feeling. You know the sadness you feel when you leave a place you've become accustomed to? Even if the place didn't treat you well, it's- ugh, I don't know," he shrugs when fitting words don't come to him. But he doesn't need to speak further; I understood every spoken and unspoken point.