Challenge Fanfic - Thoughtful
Random Patterns
They were everywhere. In the river were uncontrolled random patterns. The water meandered and swirled, weaved and intertwined. The droplets locking themselves into each other but eventually set free; to be caught by another lost ripple. They continued to grasp onto a vain hope the whole way, gently moving from wave to wave until they reach the sea and begin their endless voyage again.
They were in the sky. The stars illuminated the night sky. Tiny dots on a vast canvas, drops in the ocean, meaning everything and nothing. Their patterns lazy yet perceivable; momentous yet completely ungratified.
They were along the walkway. The paving stones that were etched under her feet, the cold rail and its supports, the lampposts and the benches dotted along the walkway, each with their reassuring monotony - they were always there, always have been, always will be - the arrangement will stay the same.
They were on the buildings. The windows neatly lined up as if on a shelf in a shop waiting to be chosen, only the shiniest and the ones that reflect the passers-by survive. The others spend a lonely eternity trying to be as shiny and reflective. The bricks that surround and supposedly hold them in place, form mocking patterns around the shelves -they don't need to compete, they don't have to be shiny, they just sit there and watch everything because walls really do have eyes.
They were in the air. There were always bugs either lightning bugs or fireflies illustrating the sky but the atmosphere always changed, sometimes it was complex, other times it was intense but other times it was perfect.
The perfect pattern on his shirt, the gentle weaved cotton, the perfect pulsation of his heart, the gentle strokes of her hair, the light kisses, the random patterns.
Random Patterns
They were everywhere. In the river were uncontrolled random patterns. The water meandered and swirled, weaved and intertwined. The droplets locking themselves into each other but eventually set free; to be caught by another lost ripple. They continued to grasp onto a vain hope the whole way, gently moving from wave to wave until they reach the sea and begin their endless voyage again.
They were in the sky. The stars illuminated the night sky. Tiny dots on a vast canvas, drops in the ocean, meaning everything and nothing. Their patterns lazy yet perceivable; momentous yet completely ungratified.
They were along the walkway. The paving stones that were etched under her feet, the cold rail and its supports, the lampposts and the benches dotted along the walkway, each with their reassuring monotony - they were always there, always have been, always will be - the arrangement will stay the same.
They were on the buildings. The windows neatly lined up as if on a shelf in a shop waiting to be chosen, only the shiniest and the ones that reflect the passers-by survive. The others spend a lonely eternity trying to be as shiny and reflective. The bricks that surround and supposedly hold them in place, form mocking patterns around the shelves -they don't need to compete, they don't have to be shiny, they just sit there and watch everything because walls really do have eyes.
They were in the air. There were always bugs either lightning bugs or fireflies illustrating the sky but the atmosphere always changed, sometimes it was complex, other times it was intense but other times it was perfect.
The perfect pattern on his shirt, the gentle weaved cotton, the perfect pulsation of his heart, the gentle strokes of her hair, the light kisses, the random patterns.