Harmony in Chaos

s i x t y t h r e e |

She's in pain, she's in pain. He waits across the room. The droop of his shoulders scream exhaustion, and there's just something missing about him. She has to go, she has to leave, but her fingers find themselves glued to the bar and her shoes have found new ground as home. She's not looking anywhere but at him and he looks flummoxed as ever. 'You're going to miss your flight' a voice in her head says. But he's right there and he's looking like he's managing the world's weight on his palms and it looks like its going to fall off soon but he's not letting that happen, he's not letting go. She can see so many things so many voices so many images all attached to him. The question marks that hang around his head, the wonder and disbelief hovering about his heart, the way he walks like he's afraid to shift the air in a room. And she can't but help it and she finds herself reaching across to pull away that giant scorching, trapping mass of masks that he's knitted all together so intricately. Her hand stops in mid-air. No. He's carefully created a maze around him for people to scope. He needs someone to cross that maze, but he doesn't want anybody to.
She doesn't realise her heart was beating fast. She doesn't realise her pulse thumping in her ears and her hands shaking like *Ezra's. She doesn't register anything, except him, him, him, and she doesn't know why she was so hell bent upon undoing what he'd done. This stranger, this desperation. She doesn't understand. She just doesn't, all she knows is that she wants to pull him out of that pitfall because he seems fine and he looks fine and he probably is fine.
But she just can't deal with the fact that something, something is just missing.
He turns around and smiles as he slides his passport on to the counter and she gasps. His eyes. They're glazing. They're cracked. And at once she knows why she felt that way.
She felt him, because she felt another her.
And boy, she didn't want that. She didn't want to see another her.

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I'm sorry. This sucked, I know. But I tried. I guess it'll get better hereon.
*Also, I'm referring to the novella 5:48 by Chloe Cheng (cityscape)when I say "Ezra's" cause he's a little boy with a rough past and his hands wouldn't stop shaking furiously except when he's baking or doing something he really loves.
So yeah, that's it, I guess. End of. This was something really random, but I hope it was a refresher. Free to comment suggestions. :)
-Much love, Me.

P.s. This was written from the point of view of somebody else. If anybody feels this way, I do pray that your hearts be content and at peace and the person you pray for, has his burdens lifted off his shoulders.