Flight risk. [h.s]

039. pt 2.

★

Serenity is not something that I have experienced that often throughout my life. One moment the idea of peace seems too far fetched and the next it is close enough for me to grab.

Like sand, it always appears to be slipping through my fingers, falling away from me like all the time that I have spent searching for it.

The solace of being truly happy is something I spent my life watching other people get to enjoy. I get a taste of it, something to draw me back in and make me fight for the chance to feel what other people feel and then before my very eyes, the universe snatches it away.

A dark pair of hands that feel like the devil himself reaches out and banishes any semblance of light in my life.

Over and over. A vicious cycle of unfair and mean advances from the universe.

Serenity is not something that I have experienced that often throughout my life.

The solace of being truly happy is something I spent my life watching other people get to enjoy.

But, right now, calm washes over me as I take a sip of my diet coke before resting the glass beaded in condensation back down on the small round table.

Sitting in the middle of the vineyard, a small table is set up amongst the rows of grape vines. A white tablecloth is spread over the metal table. A single candle standing tall in a brass candle holder in the middle of the table, flickers in the evening light.

I twirl the long strands of linguine around my fork, lifting the bundle onto a spoon and then bringing it to my lips as I look out over Harry's shoulder at the view.

The sun is setting in the background.

All the colours blend together, blurring into one. The primary orange colour matches the shade of my nails. It glints brightly, tinged with different shades of pink and purple. Fluffy clouds that look like candy floss decorate the sky, burning so fiercely that it almost blows me away.

I blink, lifting my hand to wipe my eye gently to see if the mirage in front of me was truly our backdrop for dinner.

The symphony of colours burst through the milky clouds. I'm not sure which part to look at, the mellowing pinks that are dusty and rosy or the violet purples that blend into the blue sky of daylight which is drifting away second by second.

"I've always been enchanted by the endings, you know?" Harry mumbles, his wine glass inches away from his lips as he lifts it to take a timid sip.

My eyes snap to his from the gruff sound of his serious voice.

"-The last chapters in novels, the final line of a poem, series finales, encores at the end of shows... those final symphonies in songs–" He stops, tilting his head at the sky I was just admiring so beautifully. "-Sunsets," He says in humour.