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the plants scoffed as she passed by today, knowing that she wasn't excited to see them. no, she was excited to see him.
still, she hummed her hello as she walked by.
the stranger was there when she arrived, and she beamed, and said, surprising the man yet again, "hello!"
her voice, he thinks, is the most precious thing he's ever heard.
yes, he heard the lyrical poem she said yesterday, but even then he wondered if she had truly said it or had the rain whispered it to him instead.
he smiled back genuinely, then said with a soft laugh, "hello."
she sat down, across from him and started wringing her wet hands contently.
he, hesitantly, held out the extra blanket he had brought with him, and handed it to her.
she raised her eyebrow, confused.
"oh," he said, mentally palming himself for not saying anything, "oh, i brought this for you. you did not bring one yesterday, so i worried you wouldn't today."
she blinked softly, letting that lovely smile show, and carefully received the blanket.
"thank you.", she said to him, and then continued to open the folds and spreading it over her shoulders.
"it was no problem at all.", he answered, and he knew then that her words were rare to receive.
he did not think she was arrogant when she refused to talk much. no he understood in a way, that talking is a little tedious at times.
after all, she spoke enough by the little expressions she made or the looks in her eyes when she listened to his voice.
she had brought a small bag with her today, and in it were her belongings which he didn't know yet, meant much to her.
once the man has opened his book and faded into his own world, she dared to pull out her things. out came her palette, and her brushes, and her paints.
a small canvas, the length of her palm and the width of two of her pointer finger's length, was out last, and so was the cup which she carefully placed on the edge of the pagoda so the rain may fill it with the water she'll need.
she kept on looking from the man, then back to her things, then back at the man, almost insecure about what he might think of her.
but it was alright, he hasn't noticed.
she retrieved the filled cup, and started wetting her brush.
carefully, she mixed a few colors here and there. blue with a little black, and a little white, to make a dusky grey. she made more blues and whites and darker greys.
she added thin layers at first, testing out the picture she had in mind, before adding more layers of colors and paint and textures.
"what are you painting?", the man finally asked.
she had forgotten he was here.
she blinked, once, twice, then said, "the sky."
"why?", the green-eyed stranger questioned.
"because," she said, looking down at her painting and squinting at something, "she is crying."
noticing the man's silence, she realised her words left him confused, so she added quietly, "it is raining, and rain only comes from her, from the sky. she is sad. but even when she's sad, she is beautiful too."
then he said slightly stunned and lamely to his own embarrassment, "oh."
the girl didn't notice the maroon tinge caused by his remarkably plain reply, while she continued to work on the light grey, moody cloud.
it was an hour later, when she finally rested her brush in the cup and placed the canvas down.
he couldn't help but ask if he could see it.
she nodded, picking up the canvas and passing it to him.
it was hard to focus on one thing when his eyes took in every detail, every one of the beautiful blends of colors, every single shade of the different clouds, the blue-grey sky, the raindrops that were almost not visible at a glance.
everything was so beautifully similar that if he looked outside and back to the painting, he would think that she had taken a piece of nature itself and placed it here, in the canvas he held in his hands.
while he was observing her painting, she had packed up her things, cleared the dirty paint water and wiped up the remaining paints on her palette with tissues. she threw them out in a nearby trashbin.
"it's magnificent! accurate even, you did very well.", he said when he saw that she was waiting for his reaction, "i couldn't tell the difference."
she blushed and shook her head, "it's nothing."
"nothing.", the man repeated dryly, placing the painting next to her to dry, "sure it is."
she laughed.
"i'm still learning.", she said simply.
"good.", he nodded, "that's good. but you're doing amazing right now, and it's essential to acknowledge that."
she raised her brows for a second considering his point, then settled on a smile, "thank you."
she had let him know of one of the things she loved doing. so he, in turn, offered to show her one of his own.
"do you want to know what i'm reading about?"
it was only fair after all.
and he was glad when she nodded excitedly.
author's note:
i have a feeling this is going to be a very irregularly updated story.
