held on tightly, anyone

[basilica]

He gets real serious.
Real, real serious.

Like the child’s mother did sometimes when she cried about how badly her legs hurt, about how much she hated the walking, about how much she hated her mother for making her do it. All these things that fill the child with such crippling embarrassment now that she cannot even think about them.

So, she just fidgets. And then she grins, because it’s a kind thing for him to say even if she doesn’t believe it to be true. It would have been endless hours of waiting for her mother to return, only to disappoint her by admitting that nobody had wanted to be her friend. Certainly not everyone. But that big old heart’s not going to let her try and prove him wrong. The only thing that big old heart, which seems to be expanding with each second that passes, will let her do is grin and mutter a sheepish thank you.

The child doesn’t know why he says it, but she supposes it doesn’t matter. She will learn early not to question a stranger’s kindness. And perhaps it will be her undoing someday. But for now, there is no reason to fear ulterior motives. Because they are just children.

And he gestures off in one direction, says that’s where they’ll go, and she nods. She doesn’t question it, just smiles real big because he’d smiled at her when he’d said it. Sets off in that direction without hesitation because she knows how to make the legs stop hurting.

“I like that your magic is like mine,” she says – or blurts – and glances at him out of the corner of her lilac eye. “You glow, like me.” She clarifies, grinning. “At first I thought maybe it was just the sun, but it’s not, is it?”

heaven's gate had such
eloquent graffiti

basilica