The smell of early-morning pancakes awaited you, and you sniffed the air pleasantly. Bounding out of bed clumsily, you slipped on a frilly, girly dress complimented with flowers and a belt with a bow on it. Brushing your (h/c) hair, you wrestled it to fall in loose, elegant curls. Applying touches of makeup, and a squirt of La Vie Est Belle perfume, you pounded down the steps to devour your breakfast. Your mother, a kindly woman with big eyes and a friendly disposition, happily spooned you a warm pancake, with syrup spilling down it.
"Eat up, honey." She kissed the top of your head as you eagerly gobbled down your meal. Your father, was sitting at the table, reading the paper quietly. A mug of coffee occasionally reached his lips. After the last morsel of pancake was gone, you licked the syrup off your fingers.
"Why don't you feed Iris?" Your father suggested, and you nodded, realizing it was a task that needed to be done. Happily bounding over to the study, you smiled upon seeing your beloved gray parrot. A bold and elegant bird, she clucked her beak in mirth upon seeing your arrival. Opening the door to her cage, you offered your finger and her claws clamped down on it.
"Good morning, Iris." You told her, and she responded with a birdy version of "Good morning." Chuckling, you used your finger to stroke her smooth feathers, and her big soulful eyes closed in contentment. You had received Iris after your childhood friend died, after your family moved to another place, far away from those treacherous waters, far away from the death. Iris was your first pet, a pet made to cheer you up. And she did just that. Your favorite thing in the world was walking with her perched on your shoulder, feeding her nuts and berries occasionally.
"I'm going for a walk!" You told your parents, and they responded with the usual canned words of "have fun and be safe!" The Saturday morning was full of a sunny, warm day, and you took immense pleasure in the gawking and oogling of Iris on your shoulder. Sliding a nut into her strong beak, you hummed, walking to the park juxtaposed next to the local coffee shop in your neighborhood. The park, as usual, was silent and spiritual, only the gentle dropping of the leaves a mark of life. Heading to your usual place, the benches, you halted when you spotted a figure plopped in them. Those benches were never occupied, and they gave you a nice area to rest and relax. Sometimes you would bring your book or your notebook to write, being an avid poet and author. You walked closer, curious to glimpse this stranger, and you gasped when you discovered it was Lukas, writing intensely in his notebook, reading glasses perched on the crook of his nose. Every instinct implanted in your mind told you to turn away, to ignore and snub him like everyone else. But something in the way his determined eyes, in the way of the pen scribbling furiously, in the way his lips murmured silent, incoherent words, made you shatter any ties to your cruel society, and made you approach him gingerly. He paused as you sat down on the cool seat beside him.
"Sorry. I'll leave." He muttered, and began to stand up when you gently tugged at his long-sleeved shirt.
"No, please. Stay." You told him, alarms clocking rapidly in your brain. You had Matthias. Amazing, good-looking Matthias. Funny Matthias. Why did you concern yourself with him?
"Why do you bother with me?" He asked you, desperate calamity surfacing in those seemingly dull eyes.
"Why do you write?" You countered. He shrugged.
"It helps me escape from reality for a while." He replied.
"Me too. The world on the paper is so much better than the world around us." You remarked quietly. He gazed at you pensively.
"Others make fun of my work, for writing poetry and stories. You're the only one who hasn't done that." Lukas told you, certain joy brimming in those blue eyes.
"That's because I do it too." You told him sincerely. A single tiny notebook stashed in your school supplies confirmed that. That tiny notebook you never show anyone, not even Matthias. That tiny notebook was a sliver of your hidden, more expressive self. A moment of tranquil silence passed, and you finally ended it with standing up.
"I've got to go." You told Lukas, and he nodded grimly.
"I-I like your bird." He stammered, a light blush on his cheeks.
"Her name is Iris." You smiled proudly.
"I have a puffin at home, he's my brother's." Lukas replied, now quiet and unsure.
"Well, I would love to see it sometime. Goodbye, Lukas." You waved enthusiastically, and he waved back. Was that a hint of a smile on his face? Chuckling giddily to yourself, you retreated back to your house. Upon returning to home, you immediately dug out your notebook and started writing.
I have a secret, you have one too
These beautiful truths I once knew
Ruby lines of deceit
Will never defeat
Those dull blue eyes
Will never demise
That sweet abomination
I want the aggravation
I have a secret, you have one too
Dull blue eyes I once knew
Finishing it, you smiled. This was a quick, sloppy poem about your new friend Lukas, but it was simple and symbolic. Mouthing the last line, you smiled. Those dull blue eyes I once knew…..