In the middle of a city that is settled around a lake, where the birds sing the songs of a magical realm, and the sky lends a deep shade like a weeping willow, where the moon whispers the dialect of Gods, and the stars interpret it aware that we scarcely can, rests my home, a creation influenced by all such virtues.
If I were to be absolutely candid with you, I would claim that living here has never been arduous; there has rarely been a day of strife.
I often take a glance forward to my regular dates with braised mushrooms and honey crepes, as well as to the hours that I spend engaging in video games with my wonderful pals.
But setting everything else aside, what I cherish most are the lovely mornings, which are beautiful not due to the breezes or the windows that let in a fading light that makes the space feel like a seashore at dusk, but rather because of the lips that are planted firmly on my forehead by the person I love and admire.
My connection with Maya has always been my most prized possession. There are simply too several remarks to make concerning her, but at the absolute least, she is sweet and compassionate.
I still vividly remember the day that we first met.
It was pouring outside. There were dismal clouds in the sky, and thunder rumbled, likely driving the small children to crawl underneath their comforters. The springtime sale was in overdrive, and while many families and couples were browsing with glee and wide smiles on their faces, I was standing near the countertop of a jewellery shop, feeling despondent and disappointed about a present that had been spurned some minutes ago.
It was a ring fashioned in the shape of a love loop, which was made possible by routing the rubies and blues into the two intertwined columns that were swaying with one another.
The edges were clean, and the light sparkled from and within the bold and sumptuous aesthetic that it was as a whole, and while it was fake, it was also real, given that it was acquired with sincere feelings.
In the store itself, there weren't many customers at the time; there were perhaps two or three who were constantly on the lookout for the treasures this cavern had to offer, but they were not placing any choices.
That being said, it did not take much for their pockets to be drained once a polished salesperson approached the premises using a door behind the counter that was adorned in decals portraying a red bracelet.
She had a lovely face, and she was dressed well.
She was clad in a dress that swooped down to a relatively plain cutting neckline, exposing her shoulders halfway, and since it was a close fit, it gave the garment a beautiful, classy, and comfortable appeal.
It seemed as though the visitors had known her for some time and were merely anticipating her coming with loving embraces in order to make a deal—one comprising not only riches but also hearts.
However, in the process, they failed to grasp that they were only playing insincere, which rendered the entire exchange quite difficult for her.
Nobody is flawless, of course, and I knew they had their share of ups and offs in this regard. I felt it was wonderful that they were striving, and so I kept to myself.
But when I uncovered that the folks who had been only sight-shopping before were debating rolling the dice whilst orbiting the board in an endeavour to reach the home square, I felt compelled to jump in, and so I did.
The notion of playing the hero was amusing, especially on the day I got rebuffed. My conscience was outraged and shrieking that I was identical to everyone else and that I was partaking in the exact same charade as them.
Even so, it didn't take me long to tune out those soft murmurs; it wasn't difficult, after which I walked up and discreetly moved from where I had been hanging for a while to a place where the good lady could see me.
"Excuse me, miss, I'd like to buy a ring," I began, clutching the one I'd just purchased some twenty minutes ago. "I'm truly in a rush right now, so I'd love it if you could help me pick one."
"Oh yes, I will be there in one. Will you please wait in the chair directly beneath the poster behind you? " She asked as she nodded while still managing to retain a smile in the air that was no longer quite as tranquil.
"No, I cannot," I said sternly, seizing the chair I was meant to be seated in. "I understand working is vital, but then how long must I fake being a client just to speak to my fiancé?" I frowned.
She was visibly startled, and her demeanour reflected it. Her eyes opened wide as she gazed at me in awe, but I inwardly felt better witnessing that she wasn't fumbling for a phone to consult the law.
After all, no matter how you look at it, it is strange to pull a chair with the sole purpose of throwing a dialogue, regardless of the age or the time, even if there exists anything that may meet more than the eyes.
Habits can be terrible, notably the ones that lead you to act sans thinking simply because you 're nervous, but fortunately, in this instance, it had no influence on the outcome that I so sorely desired.
With both the clocks hitting seven, the guests who had been thoroughly relishing their visit until that point certainly looked as if they were inside a penitentiary, albeit one with open doors. They were liberated to leave, yet there was no delight and just lamentation over the diamond and silver platters they had collected during their stay.
The seller was standing motionless, and she shifted her focus to the unkempt gardens, which were flanked by the exotic blooms and plants that were still living on the wall as decor, and despite the door chime signalling that the place was now vacant, she crossed her arms and uttered nothing.
"You must be really furious," I emphasized as I stood up from the chair, pondering the appropriate words to repent for my inadequacies.
"I am, but not as a result of you." She halted, groaning as she slumped against the counter while staring toward the ceiling in reverie. "That's about it. Yeah, it's not your fault."
"Are you really certain?" I confirmed, brushing my fingers around to get clear of any residual qualms in my head.
"Yes," she responded sagely, emerging from her thinking realm to turn the notice window to mark the end of the day.
"I'll get going then," I declared as I neared her and grasped the latch to the exit.
"Wait," she urged, squeezing my arm carefully. "Do you wish to trade figures?"
"Yes, I would love to," I replied, flashing a big grin.
For months, I never envisaged that having purchased a ring would send me on a voyage across the seven seas and that it would recurrently trigger me to dream of this peculiar yet wonderful day while savouring the present.
But dreams are indeed a funny thing; once the morning has sunken into ashes, there is no turning back.
Once you are unable to leave, it becomes a nightmare.
