02-22-2020, 10:58 PM
HE DON'T LOOK
A THING LIKE JESUS
He is vaguely aware of something moving in his vicinity.
Not necessarily close enough to warrant him diverting his attention, but close enough that he’s aware they’re there.
He goes on chewing the bitter grass, thinking about how strange it is that sadness should have a taste, and considering the horizon. Until the stranger speaks and he swings his head around to look at her, startled to find that she is much closer than he’d thought.
And perhaps stranger is an understatement. He has seen a great many strange and fantastical thing in his time and travel, but he’s not certain he’s ever seen anything quite like her. He does not bother trying to conceal his surprise. Maybe his mother had taught him once that it’s impolite to stare, but his gaze lingers heavy on the sharp edge of her tail and it takes a concentrated effort to shift it back to her face.
“There’s a lot to unpack here,” he says and then forcefully swallows his mouthful of their bitter grass. He studies her face, which is peculiar enough just on its own, and then tilts his head – which suddenly feels really quite ordinary. “You’re certainly unique, huh?” he asks and then exhales a kind of grunt.
“Sorry, where are my manners? What I meant to say is, what’s your name?”
Not necessarily close enough to warrant him diverting his attention, but close enough that he’s aware they’re there.
He goes on chewing the bitter grass, thinking about how strange it is that sadness should have a taste, and considering the horizon. Until the stranger speaks and he swings his head around to look at her, startled to find that she is much closer than he’d thought.
And perhaps stranger is an understatement. He has seen a great many strange and fantastical thing in his time and travel, but he’s not certain he’s ever seen anything quite like her. He does not bother trying to conceal his surprise. Maybe his mother had taught him once that it’s impolite to stare, but his gaze lingers heavy on the sharp edge of her tail and it takes a concentrated effort to shift it back to her face.
“There’s a lot to unpack here,” he says and then forcefully swallows his mouthful of their bitter grass. He studies her face, which is peculiar enough just on its own, and then tilts his head – which suddenly feels really quite ordinary. “You’re certainly unique, huh?” he asks and then exhales a kind of grunt.
“Sorry, where are my manners? What I meant to say is, what’s your name?”
F L E E
