A/N: This is one of my own little ideas. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Heaven is a good song and a good book. Hell is being sued for using them.
A picture is worth one thousand words, or so they say. He's not so sure. It depends on the picture, really. And how are you supposed to understand one thousand words all at once, anyway? You're bound to miss at least a few of them.
That's how he feels with her, sometimes. He knows she isn't like him- all shades of grey, shadows and Gothic architecture rendered out of perspective. She's simple, like primary colours. Red one moment, yellow the next, always bouncing from one emotion to the next via perfect circles and straight lines. And yet, he can't quite grasp the form of her mind. It's like a few of her one thousand words went missing somewhere along the way, and the story isn't quite complete without them. (Of course, he's always known she was a few words shy of a full dictionary, but that's entirely besides the point.)
It wouldn't usually matter. Generally, he just makes do with what she gives him, and enjoy the ride. But this time, it's different. He needs those missing words, those fragments of lines and perspectives that make up her.
Because she said they should get married last week. And he can't, for the life of him, work out if she's joking.
A/N: Just a short shot of befuddlement.