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s e v e n : walkies

| SEVEN |
WALKIES

Eira.

Eira.

Ay-Ruh.

E-I-R-A.

It was a beautiful, mysterious name which was a perfect representation of its owner. Isaiah had to hand it to her parents. Not only was Eira the sort of visually pleasing one only saw in magazines and movies, but she had a wonderful name to match.

But really, Isaiah had a feeling that even if she was called That Girl Over There, he would believe that it was a beautiful name that perfectly suited and represented her. That was how much of a smitten-kitten he was.

Isaiah was surprised at how easily he'd began referring to her by her name instead of the cleverly clever name he'd given her prior. What he was also surprised about, was how he and Eira spoke about the most random things.

How his day went, in which he'd recount every aspect of his day, from his mood when he woke up, to how annoying his teachers were, to how his little sisters had gotten glitter glue or some other crafty substance on his football boots.

He noticed that she wasn't much of talker, but a listener. Isaiah was never much of a talker either, so he got to do something he never did much. Talk about himself, and about everything else.

Eira never liked to elaborate on her day, he'd noticed. It was either the day had been good, or the day hadn't been as good as she'd hoped. And she left it at that. She never provided insight, never provided many reasons, she just said it. And Isaiah took it.

He noticed she never said she had a bad day, just a day that wasn't as good as she hoped, and Isaiah thought that said a lot about her as a person. You know, since she didn't want to elaborate on that too.

He would find himself only half listening to his friends, but simply wondering what on earth Beautiful Eira was doing at that particular moment. Was she in school? Reading? Taking a nap between classes? Laughing with a friend?

He would find himself in class, paying attention but not paying attention, because he was thinking of Eira's eyes. He was thinking of Eira's smile. He would almost miss a question and give his teacher a reason to embarrass himself, but recover at the last minute.

He would find himself in the playroom, playfully being chased by his little sisters and whatever friends they had invited over. He would find himself wearing sparkly lip gloss and Cinderella nail polish, with butterfly clips in his hair and a dreamy note in his voice because he was telling the little girls about the most beautiful girl he'd ever met.

Eira.

He would listen to their gasps and coos, he would shrug when they asked him if they could meet her. He would say, hopefully, and they would cheer. Then, he would decide to either stop by the café or go hangout with one of his friends, all of his best friends, or all of his teammates.

He wouldn't stop thinking about her though. When he'd laugh, or he'd grin, she wasn't on his mind for a few minutes. Hours. But after, alone in his room with only his thoughts and his memories, he thought about her.

He thought about Eira a lot.

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Now, he was sat in Beans n Stuff, wondering when the appropriate time to ask her on a date would be.