Author's Note: Here is a short one shot in this world. It's Yi Jeong's ramblings over a couple of things.
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Those small hands. I had never seen anyone's hands so small. They looked so delicate that if I moved one wrong way, I would shatter every bone in them. But they were stronger than they seemed and gentler too.
I placed my nasty fingers over top of them and watched and felt the way they moved in the clay. This was my first time using a different clay and I wasn't used to it, but watching those hands expertly pull and push and mold that clay made me want to do the same.
Is it possible to have two soul mates? Is it possible to have a lover soul mate and a best friend soul mate? I was married to my lover – we were still newlyweds - but there was something very different in the woman I slept with and the woman before me. My wife satisfied me physically and emotionally. I was able to tell her anything and have her comfort me with a simple touch of the hand. That was his emotional soul mate.
But this woman was my artistic soul mate. She ran my shop and worked in my studio. She came up with new ideas to create art. She was always there when I needed something done. I have sold so many of her pieces at the gallery that people were actually starting to commission her. But she wouldn't work alone so he helped as well. This was the deeper meaning of their work.
The clay before me was a mixture of two various types and it made it even more difficult to mold. But it was colorful. The color we were working with at the moment was a dark green color. Green was usually contributed to envy but in this instant it was a sign of solid friendship. Our heats united as one.
This woman whose hands moved under mine was at peace for the first time in a very long time. Her family was safe and she was back to being the woman they all knew and loved. She hadn't destroyed anything in a while.
She caught me watching her and looked up, a very gentle smile gracing her face. It was accented by the green smear on her cheek. So this was the color of friendship. Being able to help each other simply by knowing what the other felt at the touch of a hand. It didn't matter what color we were using. Every color meant we were something more than friends. We were family.
