Intellect

Florida (3)

Violetta

"Do you like to read? I like to read." My eyes were closed and my head was pressed between the uncomfortable airplane chairs and the hard window, despite knowing Harry for approximately an hour, I already knew he was smirking at me. He hasn't stopped asking me ridiculous questions, and I haven't began answering them. His questions usually follow with awkward waves of silence before his violin voice flows through the air once more.

"My mother used to read books to when I was young but then the books got to boring, and she got sick, so instead I read on my own. Charles Dickens, Moby Dick, Emily Bronte, the occasional John Green-" I just know it. I know if my eyes sliced through the bright sun that hangs against the sky and turned to look at him he'd be smiling.

"But you know what I like more then books?-" There it was again, that awkward silence -something only we could feel- like thick clouds of fog on a fall morning it hung loose and dry in the air. "Stamps." I guess I was the only one who felt the cloud of anxious silence, because Harry never seemed to notice.

"Denmark, Mexico, Australia, Toronto. Anywhere and everywhere." I could feel his arms spread in the confinements of our two seat of the small plane.

"I keep them with me, but mostly they sit at home, hung up against my bulletin board." I began to subconsciously thank him for realizing my annoyance as his voice came to an end, but all my appreciation was wiped away when that fog of awkwardness turned to rain and came pouring down.

"You look beautiful by the way."

The flicker in my stomach was foreign and a happy uncomfortable. "Do you ever stop talking?" I wished he'd keep his mouth shut, those kinds of words were too dangerous.

"Not when I'm nervous." Asking him why would mean giving in to his childish games.

"How much longer til the flight is over?"

"Do you have any siblings?" His constant nagging of irrelevant questions was quizzical, pestering but yet somewhat enduring. It's odd having someone want to know about you; even odder that I've never felt the feeling.

"I think you have a sister; younger of course. She wants to be just like you- soft hair, capturing eyes- and although her constant bugging about borrowing your clothes or to do  her hair, you love her."

I haven't felt this kind of pain in a long while, I almost forgot how overtaking it was. The way my fingers automatically grasped onto the chair handles, my bones aching, chest squeezing. Don't think about it, don't think about it. But that's all I could ever do once someone brought it up.

"Excuse me." I mutter through shaky breathes and the dawning sun.

Trembling legs move me between Harry's before a wide lady stops me in my painful tracks. "Miss, we are about to land, It's in your safety to take a seat."

But I need to leave, I can't breathe here. Her annoyed eyes didn't seem to pick up on my lost ones. Manicured fingers tapped lightly on my shoulder to guide me back to that god damned constricted seat.  Breathe, just try to breathe. it's harder done then said.

Heart exploding colors of what seems to be the Florida evening was the only thing keeping me from slipping into 'it'. 'It' was a terrible thing; full of sleep waking monsters and tears of salt and sorrow. It took over my mind, my body. 'It' hasn't came to visit my deepening thoughts in a while, and as I touched my fingers against the violet sun kissed glass I hoped it wouldn't pay a visit again.

Seconds turned into minutes of staring off into the sky above the sky. Where the clouds hung low under our airplane and the air was silk.

"We're landing in a few minutes." Just as his voice was heard the plane began to lower, and I'm sure if you weren't looking outside the window, or paying much attention you'd never feel the planes decline, but I did. It rattled my stomach of hidden sadness. I liked planes. It was a conclusion I came to at that very moment.