fantasy ❥ h.s.

delicate

delicate - taylor swift

23 March 1999

"Evie, slow down!" my mothers sweet voice calls from behind me. My short legs run faster through the tall grass, venturing through as if I were in the middle of a rain forest. I imagine vibrant plants and exotic animals in my surroundings, the sounds of tree frogs and leaves crunching running through my imagination. 5 years old and not a worry in the world.

"We have to find the jeep!" I holler, making a sharp left turn through my imaginary forest. My mama is doing her best to keep up, but my energy is far higher than hers ever could be. I giggle repetitively, slowing down in my tracks to allow her to catch up.

"I think I hear a panther." she whispers, crouching down to my level. "We must be quiet." Her finger is placed gently upon her lips, a smile spreading gorgeously over her face. I've always loved my mama.

She was my first love. The purest form I'd ever know. Always the shoulder I could cry on, the voice of reasoning within my soul. I knew her before I knew myself.

"What if there's a cub." I whisper, my nose brushing hers. I had a habit of invading peoples personal space.

Her nose scrunches, her arms wrapping around me. Safety.

"Then I suppose we'll see it." she smiles. "Look!" her attention turns behind me, her finger pointing to an empty spot in the yard. In my young imagination, I picture a beautiful panther with two cubs following close behind. They're playful and lively, much like myself. I admire them, holding close to my mama, arms secured around her neck. I could stay here all day.

Present day
Memories are the best way to remember somebody. Seven years since mom has died, and I still remember those days as if they had just happened. Distance just makes my heart grow fonder.

I sit in the bookstore, coffee in one hand and a novel in the other. My earbuds are stuck in both ears, my phone shuffling through my Lovesick 90s playlist. I hum along to the music, following along in the book as my coffee slowly disappears until there's nothing left. The ideal afternoon.

"Is that Sylvia Plath?" a muffled voice interrupts my day dream.

"Huh?" I remove one of my earbuds, looking up to see a man around my age. He's holding multiple books in his arms, nearly overflowing.

"Uh, yeah." I register what he's asked. "You a fan?"

"Never read one. Only heard of 'em." he admits. "This seat taken?"

"I don't know if I'd like to sit with someone who's never read Plath." I joke, shaking my head. "Go ahead."

"I'm Harry."

"Evie." I introduce myself, clearing my throat. "What brings you over here?"

"You." he replies. "You don't remember me do you?"

"Uh, can't say I do. I apologize." I admit, tracing my memory to try and recognize this Harry guy.

"High school. We only had one class, so I'm not too surprised." he laughs lightly, trying not to sound weird. "Mr. Boykin."

"Oooooh, I hated his class. Always so uptight." I press my palm against my forehead, laughing. At this point I've removed both of my headphones, diving deeper into the conversation.

"As I recall you were the class pet." he teases.

"As in every class." I wink, shrugging my shoulders. "What can I say, I'm easy to like."

"No kidding. Do you come here a lot?"

"Uh, not really. I usually go to the other one across town, but this one had what I was looking for." I explain, motioning toward the book I was reading.