r e c o l l e c t i o n

Chapter 3- Loud Silence

The diminutive little shop buzzed with a certain life, even though it was growing later by the second.
The shop was busy, considering it was 11 P.M., and generally ice cream shops were more of a 12 P.M. to 7 P.M. kinda thing. In my opinion at least.
The air was filled with the laughter of a group of drunks two tables over. It was a tad annoying, especially to the red-headed waitress who cast them looks that could probably melt a soul from the inside out. A couple sat chatting with a tired-looking waiter in a conversation that seemed to be growing old to each person involved, though the three smiled and laughed at each other like they were old friends.
The shop was noisy.

But Nylah hadn't spoken a single word.

So to me...

It was dead silent.

She picked away at her chocolate ice cream, covered in rainbow sprinkles and not one, but two cherries.
She looked lost in thought, and I can't blame her. In a way, I was lost in thought too. More like lost in my thoughts of figuring out her thoughts.
Does that make sense?
It better, because I'm so worn out right now there isn't another way in any dimension of the world that I can try to explain it.
I steal a glance at Nylah, afraid to catch her eye. I quickly drag my eyes back to the table, where my hand rests in a somewhat awkward position.
I look it over, examining it.
At least I can see it. My hand, I mean. In this form, it's not disappearing. Fading from me bit by bit.

Imaginary friends have different forms. They take whatever form the child they belong to wants them to take. However, only after a certain age can they take a form that is visible to others. Except for the child's parents.
I walked into Nylah's house beside her once in my visible form.

Nylah's "father" could see me.

I would tell her, but I feel it would be cruel.

She doesn't know these guidelines anyways.

Her "father" clearly doesn't know he's not responsible for the creation of Nylah. He seems like a great guy. I feel bad for him.
I will say that her mother isn't my favorite human though.

I'll leave it at that. We'll go into detail later.

Anyway, in this form, the parts of me that are fading away simply appear discolored. If I appeared as a human with part of my hand seemingly see-through and disappearing, I might get a few odd glances.
I stare at the discoloration, trying to will it away somewhere in my mind. I'm wishing with all of my imaginary heart that everything was as it was just a few years ago.

We'd be sitting here just like this, at this exact time, except all the noise would be from us alone.

We'd be laughing about something stupid, but it would be the funniest thing in the world. The world itself would be brighter. It could be dark as night but have the energy of the most beautiful day just because everything just seems right. She's smile at me and I'd smile back, making no attempt to hide my emotions. We'd be the best of friends.

But reality is not fantasy. That's what makes it a reality.

Instead we sit here in our own silence, watching as time melts away as quickly as her ice cream, which, by the way, she was devouring.
Though the ice cream was clearly not her focus, she stared at it as if somewhere inside it held the secrets to the future or something.
Meanwhile, all I can stare at is her. And she is definitely my focus.
She's absolutely beautiful. God. So so beautiful.