Heart-Felt
She sits and she waits and she smiles.
She heals and she laughs and she listens.
They come back, from fighting and making a difference to the small world. And she welcomes them back, with open arms and a warm meal. To a clean makeshift home that smells like flowers; a contrast to death.
They come in and they bring blood with them, dripping onto the floor and table. But she smiles.
They discuss excitedly what happens and when she inquires, they brush her off and wait for her to finish healing and bandaging.
And when she finishes, they go off to bed because they are so tired from fighting all day and they can't eat but she wouldn't understand because she stays behind. And so they forget to thank her because that's what she does.
And so each day she sits and waits and smiles alone. And sometimes she wonders, how somewhere along the way she became very alone.
And he, with his sky blue eyes; he watches. He observes with awe at her patience. He can't think of anything else he wants to do so he sits on that bench opposite the house each day. He can see perfectly through the window as she sits and waits, as she heals and smiles, as she nods understandingly as they walk off to bed ignoring the mess they are making of her efforts.
He sits and waits for her to breakdown, for her to shout and scream in frustration. But it never comes; she just sits and stares at the food that no one ate.
She catches his eye as he continues to stare. And it passes between them, an understanding of each other. No words, no smiles, just a feeling.
The door is opened, and left that way. He steps inside and she smiles her honeyed smile.
"I've seen you watching me." She says to him, "other people might have been worried by now."
He nods, "Are you?"
"If I was would I have left the door open?"
"Why did you?"
"You looked lonely." She shrugs.
"So do you."
She looks surprised, but tries to hide it.
"You remind me of someone…" she says, a small smile on her face.
"Who?" and despite himself, it upsets him that instead of being himself, he represents someone else to her and maybe that's why she let him in.
"It's just your hair and your eyes and a little bit of the aura around you. But I don't think I know him anymore."
He doesn't know what to say to that so he nods.
"You seem so sad for someone so young." She says with a gentle smile. He looks her in the eyes and holds himself back from saying that she looks so sad for someone who always smiles. But he can't because he knows it will hurt her.
"Sit down, talk to me." She says, and he does because he wants to see her smile. Not her usual smile that glazes her eyes and reminds him of porcelain dolls but a genuine happy smile. And so, he decides that he'll sit with her and wait and maybe smile. Because he thinks it'll be worth it in the end.
It makes him feel better (and a little guilty); knowing that maybe it's not so bad to not have a heart; because even someone with such a big heart can be empty and isolated underneath it all. It makes him think that maybe real, heart-felt emotions are not as wonderful as they should be.