Paige Simmons. Auburn hair, radiant amber orbs for eyes. She stood atop the slope, sunlight filtered through the green canopy above. Her heart-shaped countenance was spectacular; so was the white garment she had on to add to the grace she already possessed.
A titter of white doves exploded through the bushes. Crickets chirped.
Mace knew he was in a dream. Thus, he may as well use up what time he could spend here…away from the real world - away from the very real death of his strong-spirited girlfriend. "Pai?" his voice echoed. "PAI!"
"Mace." Her velvet voice, again. He couldn't pull through the tunnel of his throat a word to describe her. But it was said the best forms of beauty only leave you speechless.
Upon reaching her, after swimming arduously through the forest floor, he embraced her the tightest he could. "What I am – dead?" he chortled. You wish, he told himself inside the bubble of his own mind.
"Come and see," Pai responded sweetly.
"See what?"
She bounded ahead, now heading across the meadow to the other side.
"PAI, SEE WHAT?" yelled Mace behind her.
No answer. She had vanished.
"Spit it out. What's up?" Jake shook his best friend awake.
Mace refused to talk, though. Thoughts about dreams were rather volatile, freshest in your mind for the first few minutes after you leave slumberland, but wholly evaporated in the next hour. He only stared across the room, at the blank old wooden wall.
"C'mon, we got some driving to get done," Jake concluded, tapping him on one shoulder & hauling himself up & out of bed.
Kites were symbolic for Mace, however silly they may be. He'd flown them as a child, & when he first met Paige, she'd told him as if by coincidence how much she admired them. One of their first few conversations centered plainly on the wonders of kite flying. When you fly a kite, it soars so high that it's as if you hear it saying it's got nothing to lose. This marks a time in one's life whereby he experiences the highest level of pleasure.
But what about when (or if) a kite's string snaps abruptly? The whole pleasure contained in the kite simply ceases to exist. It is swallowed somewhere in the sky, & you don't know where it has wound up or whether it has wound up someplace else. & it can hurt a child, in some way, when (or if) he loses his kite to a giant spread of blue sky.